


(oh, my) what a marvelous tune

by gignikinszz



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Inspired by High School Musical (2006), M/M, Rated T for swearing, bone apple teeth, is it cringey? yes but its hsm what did you expect, no homophobia bc i personally didnt feel like it, same age au, this is so horribly self-indulgent i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gignikinszz/pseuds/gignikinszz
Summary: When Anakin found himself singing karaoke with the cute boy at the New Year's Eve party, he didn't expect it to go anywhere. He certainly didn't expect to see the boy sitting in his homeroom on the first day back to school. Well, fuck.Or: the obikin High School Musical au no one asked for but I wrote anyways, as a treat
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 44
Kudos: 85





	1. victims of the night

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a HOT MINUTE since i've posted here, but i'm back!! i've written this entire fic out already, and will be posting on thursdays, unless i lose all self-control and decide to post more often, a very real possibility. when the whole thing is up, there will be 6 chapters, and it'll clock in at about 31K. i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> fic title is from "starlight" by taylor swift  
> chapter title is from "shut up and dance" by walk the moon
> 
> buckle up, kids, for america's second-finest romeo & juliet adaptation, adapted

The end of Anakin’s existence started on New Years’ Eve at a ski resort 2 states away from home, singing karaoke with a boy he didn’t know at a party he didn’t even want to be at.

He’d just been practicing in one of the resort’s gyms, trying to perfect his skills for the upcoming state championship, when his mom walked in and told him he “had to go be with people his age, not just basketballs” and they “didn’t come all this way just to play more basketball.”

Fine. Whatever. Before he knew it, he was in a dumb blue button-down, walking through a crowd of teens and trying to keep his head down. Since when were there so many people his age there? He’d seen mostly adults, including one long-haired man who he could’ve sworn was his hippie basketball coach. Then again, the teenagers were probably all just lame and didn’t want to go skiing and play basketball like he did.

He was only vaguely aware of the fact that people were singing karaoke until a giant spotlight found its way over to his face and he was being forced up onstage alongside another equally confused-and-awkward-looking boy, like something out of a dream. Well. At least the other boy was cute.

They smiled awkwardly at each other, lips pressed together, as microphones were forced into their hands and the announcer dude—wearing a godawful Hawaiian shirt and breath smelling of alcohol that was definitely prohibited—put his arms around their shoulders.

“I don’t sing,” Anakin said, trying to hand the mic back.

“Sure you don’t,” the man said, winking. “Who knows? Someday, you two might thank me for this.”

Anakin was _certain_ he didn’t miss the other boy muttering, “Doubtful,” under his breath. Anakin took the excuse to give him a look. He seemed to be as madly uncomfortable as he himself was, tense and slightly red-faced.

“Hey,” Anakin said softly as the opening notes of the song played. The other boy didn’t respond, so he muttered quickly, “I’ll be blue.”

He got a nod for that, but before he could fully process the way the boy’s hair moved over his forehead, he had to sing.

_Livin’ in my own world_

_Didn’t understand_

_That anything could happen_

_When you take a chance_

His voice was a bit shaky, but it was fine. Really. The other boy still wasn’t looking at him, but then again, he didn’t expect his shitty singing skills to woo him in any sense of the word. It was fine. Anakin just decided he’d spend the whole song singing to the other side of the crowd. That would work just fine, and then he could get off the stage and pretend none of the whole karaoke thing ever happened.

Then the boy started his part of the verse and _damn_ , okay, that wasn’t going to happen. His _voice_. Holy shit. It was all Anakin could do to keep the staring to a minimum as the boy did his lines. Problem was, the more Anakin looked, the more attractive the boy seemed to be, and it was difficult to _stop_.

The other boy finally looked back at him as they started the chorus, Anakin on a harmony that he sometimes used when he listened to the song in the shower, not that he sang in the shower or anything. The gaze wasn’t threatening as much as it was surprised. In response, Anakin started smiling and dancing a little.

The whole singing thing was… surprisingly fun. More so when the other boy smiled back, revealing an absolutely devastating set of dimples that made Anakin nearly fall off the stage. Oops. The point was, he found himself… getting into it. Dancing. Having real fun, the kind of fun he usually had with a basketball in his hands.

When the song ended, he found himself grinning, looking at the other boy, who was grinning just as widely back.

“Anakin,” he said, holding out his hand.

The boy smiled and took it, the contact sending a shoot of warmth through Anakin’s chest.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, and it was all Anakin could do to not gape. He was _British?_ Oh, Anakin’s luck was getting better by the second.

“Nice to meet you, Obi-Wan,” he said. “What brings you all the way out here to the colonies?”

The other boy snorted. “I live here,” he said. “Well, not here. I live in the country.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows. “Sounds interesting,” he said. “Tell me more over some punch?”

They were outside by the time the countdown started, idly chatting about how Anakin was there on a rare vacation with his mom and Obi-Wan was there because he was moving in with his dad so the man figured a vacation was in order to kick the whole thing off.

“Which doesn’t make sense,” the boy laughed, “seeing as I’m _moving in_. But hey, the skiing is good.”

Anakin had to laugh along with him. God, his laugh was just… _addictive_. It made Anakin want to ask him questions like _where do you live?_ and _can we go on a date sometime even though the chances of us being from the same part of the country are, like, zero_?

Needless to say, by the time the countdown started, Anakin was fully entranced. He wondered if, at midnight, Obi-Wan had any plans. Probably not, given there were, like, 7 seconds to go and Obi-Wan was still with him.

“Hey,” Obi-Wan said with a smile.

_… 6, 5, 4…_

“Do you wanna kiss?” Anakin blurted out before he could stop himself. Shit. They’d just _met_ , and besides, Obi-Wan really didn’t seem the type.

_… 3, 2, 1…_

“Sure,” Obi-Wan said easily, surprising Anakin, looking surprised, looking pleased.

People were yelling. Apparently, it was a new year. Anakin registered none of that, though, because right after Obi-Wan agreed, he grabbed Anakin and kissed him, effectively turning off everything in his brain that wasn’t processing how exactly the very attractive boy with his hands on Anakin’s face was kissing him.

Now, Anakin was not a dramatic person. Most of his friends and his mother and his ex-girlfriend would tell anyone who asked otherwise, but he resolutely ignored their contradictions and stuck to it that he wasn’t dramatic in any way. That said, kissing Obi-Wan, in his mind, was like fireworks. It was like every birthday he’d ever had rolled into one minute. Well, it could’ve been longer. Or shorter. He really wasn’t sure. Time went all elastic, it was too electric, every motion making every nerve in his body light up. It was, without a doubt, the best kiss he’d ever had.

 _Sorry, Padme_ , he thought murkily as he grabbed the front of Obi-Wan’s shirt to pull the boy in closer.

When they finally pulled away, there were still fireworks going, so Anakin assumed it hadn’t been too long, but honestly, figuring out how long the kiss had been was among the last things on Anakin’s mind. No, he was focused on fumbling his phone out of his pocket.

“Give me your number,” he gasped, one hand still holding Obi-Wan’s shirt, still inches from the other boy’s mouth, using the other hand to press the phone against Obi-Wan’s arm.

The other boy nodded. “Yeah,” he said, sounding equally flustered, swallowing in a way Anakin didn’t miss and licking his lips as he grabbed Anakin’s phone and pulled his own out. “Give me yours, too.”

Anakin wasted no time in forcing the phone he’d been handed up to Obi-Wan’s face to unlock it, then going straight to the messages app to send a text to his number, after which he just used the messages app to create the new contact. Who needed to go looking through all the apps in someone’s phone, anyways?

Obi-Wan, apparently, who responded to the text immediately but took a few more moments with Anakin’s phone than Anakin did with his, even going so far as to take a selfie with it, for a profile photo.

“Oh, we’re doing that?” he asked, quickly going to take a selfie of his own.

“Wouldn’t want you to forget my face,” the other boy said, a flirtatious lilt to his tone as he smiled easily.

“Absolutely not,” Anakin said, pressing the other boy’s phone back into his hand and getting his back simultaneously, before looking down at his own phone to see a name— _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ —and a picture of the other boy, still fucking smiling and making Anakin’s insides feel like they were spitting sparks.

He took a moment to look at it before he spoke again. “So, where are you from?” He asked, but when he looked up, the other boy was gone.

Well, shit.

\--

 **Anakin Skywalker** : hey !!

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** hi!

 **Anakin Skywalker:** do you want to meet up sometime today?

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** I can’t, sorry ://

 **Anakin Skywalker:** oh ok haha

\--

Obi-Wan was still reeling from the whole New Year’s Eve incident a week later, on his first day at East High. An experience that he was sure would leave him reeling all over again.

It all started when his alarm didn’t go off and his dad had to wake him up, like, when he was leaving, leaving him to drive to school and get to class before it started in 15 minutes himself. Not the best recipe for a stress-free first day.

He did his best to put the night a week ago and the stranger—Anakin—out of his mind as he walked quickly through the halls, occupying his mind with other thoughts. He didn’t look _too_ much like his dad, did he? Given the look of the school’s halls, plastered with posters advertising the state championship basketball game in a couple weeks, he knew it would just give him a _reputation_. Which was the last thing he wanted.

In all honestly, he’d been sort-of regretting his decision to stay in America with his dad since he’d made it. It would’ve been so _easy_ to go with his mom, back to England where at least his accent fit in, rather than stay with his father in fucking _Arizona_. That dumbass girl from _Twilight_ was from Arizona, nothing good could come there. Besides, moving back absolutely would’ve easier than becoming the “freaky genius kid” at yet _another_ school. Or, worse: “Coach Jinn’s Weird Genius Son Who Can’t Seem To Put His New Year’s Kiss Out Of His Mind For More Than Five Minutes At A Time, Even Though It Happened Literally A Whole Week Ago And He Barely Texted You.”

Yeah, he thought, forcing the last bit of that moniker out of his mind, the prospects were not good.

It was in his best interest then, he figured, to keep his head down for the present moment. And focus on the fact that his entire education would have been _majorly fucked up_ had he chosen to go.

That said, he was lucky to find the classroom at all. He was also lucky to have seen a lot of weird shit in his stints in different schools, as it helped him to not do a massive double-take when he walked in and saw a short, gray-haired man—who he assumed was Mr. Yoda—sitting on a fucking throne. A gold one. Covered in some sort of red fur throw thing. As it was, it distracted him enough that he almost ran into an evil-looking bald girl on his way to the only open seat, in the very back.

He didn’t have time to take in anything else before the bell rang, though, mind still fixated on the throne. _What the fuck kind of teacher uses a fucking throne in their classroom?_ He thought. _I should’ve just gone to Britain and figured out that education system, oh god_.

The small man cleared his throat surprisingly loudly, and the buzzing classroom quieted down, some of the more athletic-looking kids at the front sinking back down into their seats.

“Splendid holidays, I trust you all had? Good, that is.” The man’s voice was croaky, and it took Obi-Wan a few seconds to figure out what the _fuck_ he was saying, but all the other students looked almost… bored. As if they were used to his weird-ass sentence structure. Which, he supposed, made sense. “For new activities, the sign-up sheets you can check. Auditions for the winter musicale, our theatre club is having. Singles auditions, there will be, for the supporting roles, and pairs auditions, for the leads.”

At those words, a girl sitting at the front with blue-and-white braids snorted and leaned over the basketball on her desk to punch the guy sitting in front of her, who was turned to the side, digging for something in his backpack. Something about him seemed… familiar, but Obi-Wan was too focused on the fact that the girl had nothing but a fucking basketball with her to try and place it.

“A place of learning this is, Ms. Tano, hmm? A hockey arena, this is not.” The short man was walking now, past the girl’s desk, and Obi-Wan just hoped he wouldn’t come his way. Especially not after he whacked the legs of her desk with his knobby cane. “A sign up for the debate team, there is as well. Answer your questions about that, Debate Club president Padme Amidala can.”

At his words, the brunette girl sitting next to him straightened up and raised her hand, waving a little. Padme, he assumed. She had a nice-looking face. Not that that did anyone any good in debate.

Before he could think too much on that, though, his phone started ringing in his pocket. _Shit_. When had he taken it off do not disturb? When had he turned the sound on? God, this was _not_ the way he’d wanted to start his year and a half at East High. Embarrassing as hell.

Before he could turn it off, though, the bald girl at the front and the boy sitting behind her both pulled their phones out.

“Is it yours?” she asked, only to be cut off by Mr. Yoda.

“No place in the classroom, a cell phone has. A distraction, it is. Your cell phones, you will give me, Asajj and Savage.”

“Ugh!” the girl said, looking downright murderous. The boy seemed more placid, but still decidedly unhappy as he chucked his phone in the bucket Mr. Yoda had pulled seemingly out of nowhere.

Mr. Yoda continued down the row to where Obi-Wan had finally gotten his phone out, seen why it was going off, and declined the call from—Anakin Skywalker? Why was _ski lodge fantastic New Year’s kiss boy_ calling him _now?_

Before he could figure it out, though, Mr. Yoda was at his desk, making him jump a bit. “Zero tolerance for cell phones, we have here. In detention, it seems, we will get to know each other.” The man’s fingers were knobby, twisted around the rim of the bucket Obi-Wan slowly put his phone in like all the other students had. “To East High, we welcome you, Mr. Kenobi.”

At that, the small man turned away from him, towards the basketball girl and her friend at the front.

“Involved, I see your phone is, Mr. Skywalker,” the little man said, hobbling up slowly. “In detention, we will see you as well.”

Mr. Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker. It hit him as the boy dejectedly turned to put his phone in the bucket. Seeing his profile again… Obi-Wan got it. _Oh my god_ , he thought. _Oh my god_.

Just his luck that the annoyingly cute boy he’d spent all of 15 minutes in the company of and subsequently _kissed_ was going to his _fucking_ school and sitting in his _fucking_ homeroom and—

“Uh, Master Yoda,” basketball girl started, but before he could even process the fact that they addressed him as _Master_ Yoda, she was saying, “your honor, you see, we have basketball practice, and, you see, you can’t just put our _team captain_ in—”

“Hm! For you, an hour as well, Ms. Tano,” the man was saying, but Obi-Wan’s mind was otherwise occupied.

Team captain. _Team captain_. What the fuck was up with his absolutely shit luck today? Fantastic. The guy he had a massive raging crush on was his dad’s _team captain_. Fuck. How was he supposed to function like this? Didn’t whatever fates were controlling his life want him to make it through high school alive?

The girl beside him—Padme, he remembered—was snickering a little, and at that, _Master_ Yoda turned around and said, “Padme Amidala as well, one hour you will serve. Over, the holidays are. Gone, the time to chatter in class and text is.” The man surveyed the class with a gaze that bored a little too deeply into the soul for Obi-Wan’s taste. “Hm. Now, any more questions, are there?”

The class was silent for a moment, until an annoying-looking kid with slicked back hair raised his hand.

“So how were your holidays, Master Yoda?”

He just _sounded_ like a suck-up and the entire class groaned a little, but before Master Yoda could respond, the bell rang, prompting an explosion of movement as everyone moved to leave for their break. Judging by the behavior of the other phone-less students, Obi-Wan guessed he wasn’t getting his back until the end of the day, after detention. Great.

When he got out the door, he was surprised by a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey!” Anakin said, beaming.

Obi-Wan’s hand found its way up to Anakin’s forearm on its own, touching just to make sure he was real.

“I don’t believe this,” he said, slightly agape.

“Me either!” Anakin said, his voice weirdly soft. “I was sure you were going to, like, Rhode Island or somewhere, not Albuquerque. God, this is so—I just can’t believe it!”

The other boy’s enthusiasm and smile were infectious and Obi-Wan found his mouth smiling as well, despite himself.

“My mum moved back to Britain, that’s why I’m here. Like I said on New Year’s, I moved in with my dad—”

“Oh, yeah!” Anakin cut in, quietly. Hm, guess the whole _your coach_ revelation could wait. “You did say that. I guess he lives here, god, that’s serendipitous.” He took a breath, still smiling, and Obi-Wan pretended the irony was funny for the sake of his sanity. “Hey, speaking of the lodge, I looked for you on New Year’s Day, after I texted, but I couldn’t find you.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, taking a couple of steps towards the hall he thought his locker was in. “We had to leave first thing. By the way, why are you whispering?”

_Please don’t be because—_

“Oh,” Anakin said, blushing a bit. “Well, it’s just my friends—”

 _—oh fuck_ —

“—they know about the snowboarding thing, but not really about the, uh, singing.” Anakin said it like it was normal, but it made Obi-Wan stop in his tracks a little.

“The singing?” He asked, and Anakin quickly shushed him.

“Not so loud!” His face was serious, and Obi-Wan was a little tempted to laugh.

“Oh,” he said, continuing his walk down the hall and letting Anakin follow him. “I thought this was about, like, the kiss. Cause, you know.” It was a terrible explanation, but Anakin seemed to get it, as he snorted and gave a nod.

“Oh, yeah, no it’s not that, don’t worry. It’s just, the, you know,” he said, lowering his voice, “the singing thing, that’s a little more, uh, not my reputation.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look that he hoped conveyed how fully weirded out he was by the entire situation. “The fuck is it with this school?” he asked, incredulous. “How in the fuck is that weirder to people than—” he threw his hands up, making Anakin laugh a little. “You know what, never mind. So what is it with them? Too much for them to handle?”

Before Anakin could answer, a girl with twin blue braids waved to him and said, “What’s up, Anakin?” to which he smiled and gave a quick hi.

He cleared his throat and turned back to Obi-Wan quickly. “Well, no, it was cool. It’s just, my friends, they, you know… it’s just not what I do. It’s like a different me.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at that but turned down a hallway instead of responding, letting Anakin walk a bit faster to catch up with him.

Anakin cleared his throat beside him when he was there, as they were almost to the front entrance everywhere, where the most bulletin boards and signs were located.

“So, uh, anyways, East High! Welcome! Oh,” he said, gesturing to a paper pinned to one of the larger bulletin boards that, on closer inspection, hosted a sign-up sheet for the winter musical, “Bet you’re just _dying_ to sign up for that now that you’ve met Master Yoda.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “If I did, it would only be to find out more about the man. But really, I just want to get a feel for the school this semester. No clubs for me. But, well, if you did it,” he said, elbowing Anakin, “I’d consider coming to see the show.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I hate to be the one to tell you, but that’s impossible.”

Obi-Wan had to laugh at that.

Before he could enjoy the moment for long, though, the scary bald girl stepped out from behind the bulletin board, arms crossed.

“What’s so impossible, Skywalker? I didn’t know that word was a part of your limited vocabulary.” Something about her gave Obi-Wan the impression that she would eat him given an okay reason and good opportunity, and it burrowed its way under his skin somewhere, unsettling him. “Oh. The new kid. So nice of you to show him around.”

Her tone wasn’t even suggestive in the slightest, but it sent some icky feeling crawling over his skin all over again, like she _knew_ about them. Whatever that meant. Not that was bad, it was just that, well. He had no clue where Anakin stood on, well. Everything that _wasn’t_ the singing thing.

Instead of actually addressing him, though, the girl pulled a red pen out of her bag and wrote a name enormously under the “pairs audition” heading. _Asajj_. Her handwriting was… not good, and besides, her name took up the entire space. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but give Anakin a look at the sight of it, hoping he was successfully commenting on the absurdity of the sight with his facial expression alone. Given the way the other boy’s lips twitched upwards a tick, he was pretty sure he was successful.

“Oh, so sorry,” she said after she finished, turning to Obi-Wan. “Were you planning on signing up as well?”

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin again, before meeting her eyes. “Not this time, no.”

She gave a hum, and Obi-Wan had the distinct feeling she was sizing him up. “My brother and I have had starring roles in every single school production we were eligible to try out for, so tough luck there. If you insist on joining, though, I’m sure we can find some sort of supporting role for you.”

Obi-Wan was quick to shake his head. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m just looking at the bulletin boards. Lots going on here.” He kept his tone purposefully cool, noting how it made the girl grit her teeth through her fake smile.

 _Well,_ he decided, _I should probably get out of here before she eats me_.

As he walked past the bulletin, though, he couldn’t resist throwing out one last, perfectly cool, “Nice penmanship.”

He tried to make it less than obvious that he was walking away as fast as he reasonably could.

\--

Practice during free period that day was… difficult, to say the least. Anakin’s mind was trapped between ‘oh my god hot NYE boy goes here’ ‘oh my god I kind of want to sing???’ and ‘oh my god I forgot I was in practice’.

Yeah, he got hit with more than a few basketballs. It was bad.

After he escaped that embarrassment, though, he decided to ignore his absolute inability to concentrate and decided to go stare at the cast list some more.

It was, for some reason… compelling.

He’d never sung in front of an actual audience that wasn’t his showerhead before (again, not that he sang in the shower or anything). And, well, it had been surprisingly fun. He’d gotten into it more than he thought he would. It had felt _good_ , with the lights blinding them, their heat making him sweat in his long sleeves, with the weight of the mic in his hand, with Obi-Wan’s smile next to him. When they sang together, the harmonies locked and it felt transcendental, in a way. He couldn’t describe the feeling. He just knew it was _right_.

Now all he could think about was doing it again. In the musical. Which _happened_ to be one of his favorites. Not that he cared about musicals or Broadway or anything in the slightest, never mind what his Spotify said.

With that in mind, he glanced around a bit, making sure no one was paying too close attention to him. Then he glanced at the list once more, imagining that his and Obi-Wan’s names were written somewhere around Asajj’s.

He shook himself out of it quickly. God, he needed to get his head in the game.

\--

Something was fishy about Anakin Skywalker’s behavior, even Savage could tell. Basketball players didn’t usually just go around staring at the audition sign-up sheets for his and Asajj’s musicals, after all. Well, mostly Asajj’s musicals.

After Anakin left, Savage decided to go look at the audition list, to try and see what the other boy had been looking at. Maybe there was something weird on it? When he looked, though, he couldn’t see anything unusual. Other than the fact that Asajj’s name was the only one under the sign-up for pairs auditions. Though, if he was being honest, that was usual. The _\+ Savage_ was always implied.

The peering stopped, though, when Asajj came wheeling around the corner. He was quick to grab her, bringing her over to the list to impart the news.

“Anakin Skywalker was just looking at our list,” he said, pointing at it in a way that made Asajj roll her eyes and expecting her to react with shock, to ask a thousand questions he couldn’t answer.

Instead, her brow just furrowed and she said, “Again?”

Savage raised an eyebrow at her, trying not to let his disappointment in her reaction show.

“He and that new boy, Kenobi, were looking at it earlier,” she said in explanation.

“The new boy? Isn’t his name Obi-Wan or something?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. “There’s something freaky about him. Something… not quite right.” She paused for a moment, a finger on her chin, looking like she was contemplating saying something. “You, know, he corrected the teacher in English today. Mrs. Ti, you know? No one has corrected her since, well. Ever.”

And with that, she turned and started walking away, pausing only to ask him if he was coming, to which he scurried along and followed. Because of course he did. He always followed.

She led them to the library, where she plopped down at one of the computers and started typing.

Only a moment after she hit enter, she gasped, and Savage leaned over her shoulder to see a few articles about the Obi-Wan kid.

“Look,” she said. “Son of… some lady and _Qui-Gon Jinn_. As in a certain basketball coach?”

Savage’s eyebrows raised. “That could be useful,” he said.

“Only if we need it, brother,” she said. “Though the rest of this could prove to be _very_ helpful. Look.”

Savage did, and by the time he got through the title he got what she meant.

“A regular Cicero, isn’t he?” Savage said. “Why do you think he’s so interested in our musical if he’s so good at… other stuff?”

To that, his sister’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. But, to be honest, I don’t think it’s going to be a problem. We needn’t concern ourselves with amateurs who haven’t even bothered to sign up yet.” Her expression cleared then, as she slowly turned back to the computer screen. “Though I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to make certain that Kenobi sticks to activities that are, well… appropriate for him.”

With that, his sister pulled up the print page and double-checked all the specifications. Before she printed the article, though, she turned back to Savage one last time.

“After all, he _loves_ rhetoric.”

And with that really bad attempted dig, Asajj hit print and stood up to grab the evidence that would, with any luck, get Obi-Wan and Anakin out of their hair once and for all.

\--

Obi-Wan had gone _into_ detention already feeling somewhat pissy (it wasn’t _his_ fault that Anakin was calling him, why should _he_ have to suffer for turning his phone off?), but when Padme Amidala came up chattering about debate, he thought he might lose his mind.

“Yes!” she said, without introducing herself. “We would _love_ to have you on our debate team! God, with you… we might have a chance at winning this year!”

“Uh, sorry… Padme,” he said, pausing over the giant moon he was painting and pretending he didn’t see her eyebrows raise when he spoke. Damn accent. Maybe he should start faking it? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know,” she said. “The debate tournament, the one Master Yoda was talking about. Come on, it’s perfect for you!”

That, of course was when he noticed what she was holding. A flyer with his face on it? No, a stupid newspaper clipping from when he lived in California. _Sun High Marvel Aces State Debate Competition_.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, frowning down at it.

“Uh, didn’t you slip it into my locker?” she asked, holding it up, as if that was a _normal_ course of action for someone wanting to join the debate team, rather than just _talking to the girl that sits next to them in homeroom about it_.

“Of course not,” he said, giving her a look that he hoped conveyed _why the fuck would I do that_.

“Oh,” she said, deflating a little before perking right back up. “Well—we’d still love to have you on our team!”

He grimaced a little. “Sorry, but I really need to catch up on the curriculum here before I think about joining any clubs.”

Before Padme could respond to that, though, a menacing presence came up beside him. One he’d been hoping to avoid all day but, as fate would have it, had sought him out.

“And what better way to get caught up than by hanging out with the smartest kids in school? That is, unless it’s something to do with your father,” Asajj said casually, eyes like knives.

Obi-Wan gave an equally false smile back. He didn’t know what it was, but something about her just… irked him. “No, not really,” he said. Never mind how she’d figured that out. Probably, he thought, in the same google search she’d pulled the article from.

Before she or a very awkward-looking Padme could respond, however, there was a loud _thunk_ as Anakin fell out of the tree he was perched in and Master Yoda interrupted.

“Hm, many new faces have we in detention today,” he said. “While hope, I do, that habit, this does not become, a helping hand, drama club can always use.” He took a break to glare at Anakin, now climbing back into the tree he’d fallen out of, and the girl—basketball girl, something Tano—who was dead asleep. “Now, probe the mounting evils of cell phones, we will.”

Obi-Wan sighed. It was going to be a long hour.

\--

Detention was every bit as mind-numbingly boring, yet simultaneously horrifying as Anakin remembered from the few other times he’d been there. All he did was sit in a tree, wondering when the hour would be up and he could go shoot hoops. Ahsoka, who was suspiciously quiet below him, and who he suspected was actually asleep, was probably dreaming the same thing.

 _Not for long_ , he decided, lowering a fake leaf down to tickle her nose.

Before he could tickle her nose enough to wake her up, though, a familiar voice distracted him.

“Yes!” he heard from across the cluttered stage, and he couldn’t help but perk up. He wasn’t hung up on Padme, not anymore, but she never shouted and he was curious to see what she was so excited about.

Was it weird to be so interested in his ex’s life? It wasn’t that he wanted to get back together, _especially_ after meeting Obi-Wan. He just… wanted to be friends. Was that weird? He made a mental note to ask his mom when he got home.

He didn’t stop to think about that for too long, though, before he leaned out to see her talking to—

Obi-Wan.

What could Padme possibly want with Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan didn’t _like_ her, did he? Wait, what was she holding? Obi-Wan was glaring at it, it couldn’t be anything good. He leaned out a little further to get a closer look, but—what did _Asajj_ want with the two of them? Anakin leaned out further to get a closer look, stretching his hand out to rest it on a branch that he realized too late wasn’t there.

Ow. The ground hurt. When he looked back at Obi-Wan, he was looking at Yoda, thankfully. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen or heard Anakin’s embarrassing fall. Padme had, though, and she was giving him a _look_ that he just knew was calling him dumb.

He wondered, as he climbed back into the tree and perhaps for a minute after, if she would answer if he texted.

His thoughts and Yoda’s boring-ass speech about cell phones or whatever were interrupted, however, by the auditorium doors opening with a bang.

“Where’s my team, Yoda?” Oh shit. Coach looked mad. “And what the hell are those two doing in that tree?”

Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan again, just to see him hiding behind the moon he’d been painting. Why was he so scared of Coach? It wasn’t like _his_ ass was going to get beat for getting detention during practice.

“Crime and punishment, it is, Qui-Gon. Cleansing for the soul, the arts are, as well.” The man looked annoyed. Well, as annoyed a man who looked about 700 years old could be. “Doing them a favor, I am,” he said. Anakin begged to differ, but judging by the way Yoda and Coach Jinn were looking at each other like they each wanted the other to die, he figured it was best if he didn’t voice that opinion at the moment.

Coach Jinn just gestured between the two of them. “Can we have a talk? Please?” Then he turned to the tree, still looking furious. “And you two, in the gym, _now_.”

Anakin was quick to jump down and grab a barely-awake Ahsoka, pulling her out of the tree and walking contritely out of the auditorium. Coach was _mad_ mad.

It was funny, everything in him wanted to look back at Obi-Wan, to see if he was still there, to catch a last glimpse of him. Though rationally, he knew he’d see him the next day. And, just as rationally, he didn’t think it would be beneficial at all to look back and draw Coach’s attention to the other boy. No need to let him know about _that_ particular wrench in the works.

Funnier still was that Anakin was absolutely certain that Obi-Wan was looking at him as he walked out.


	2. (i've been longing to be) dancing around again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello what's up i have absolutely no self control, hope yall had a good 22 hours :)) little bit shorter today, but uh definitely not the shortest chapter i have written lmfao
> 
> chapter title is from "dancing around" by flor, hope you enjoy!!

In all honesty, the drama between the basketball and drama departments had always been tiring. Now that the heads of each were standing in his office, squabbling with each other like a couple of teenage girls, Mace Windu decided that it was, in all actuality, nothing short of fully exhausting.

“If they have to paint sets for detention, they can do it later, at a time that’s not during my practice,” Qui-Gon snapped, gesturing wildly.

Yoda made an extremely annoyed _hmph_ noise and smacked his cane on the ground. “If theater performers, these were, special accommodations, there would not be. Forced to miss rehearsal for detention, they would be.”

Qui-Gon just glared down at the man. “Well we are _days_ away from our biggest game of the year!”

“And days away are _we_ ,” the short man said, poking a withered finger at Qui-Gon, “from auditions. Important, these are. Set the tone for the entire Spring Musical, they will—”

“—oh, because that’s so important—”

“More to this school there is, young man, than teenage boys running around in baggy shorts fighting for touchdowns.” Windu raised an eyebrow, amused. He honestly didn’t think he’d heard anyone call Qui-Gon _young man_ since he’d turned eighteen and fucked off to god knows where to learn to avoid all adults and humans with common sense like his life depended on it. He couldn’t deny, though, that Yoda pulled it off quite nicely.

This, of course, had Qui-Gon steaming.

“Baskets!” he yelled, hands on his hips making him look even larger than he was. “They shoot baskets.”

Maybe it was the fact that Qui-Gon was trying to intimidate a man half his height, maybe it was that the man had felt the need to explain basketball—a subject Mace was unfortunately well-versed in—to him. The fact of the matter was, he’d heard enough.

“Okay, stop,” he said, before any canes could be whacked into shins or old men could be attacked. “Enough is enough. You two have been having this silly-ass argument since the day you started teaching here. Do I have to remind you two that you work for the same school?”

The two grown-ass men in question looked down (or up, as it were) at him, now suitably reprimanded.

“Correct, you are, suppose I do,” Yoda said, looking up at Qui-Gon, who just nodded, still obviously annoyed .

With that, Mace decided, his work as a mediator was done.

“Good,” he said. Then he turned to Qui-Gon, intent on making Yoda mad again for the sole purpose of his own entertainment. “So, coach, how’s the team looking?”

When Yoda gave an exaggerated _hmph_ and gave him an incredibly pissed-off look, Mace could only shrug. “What can I say? It’s more interesting.”

He pretended not to hear Yoda cursing them both as he hobbled out. The man _was_ a good drama teacher, after all.

\--

Padme was finding it more difficult than she should’ve to recruit one of the smartest people she’d ever met to the debate team. He was a _perfect_ candidate, if the article she’d found in her locker had anything to say about it, so there was no real reason why he should be so avoidant.

“Come on,” she said, catching up to Obi-Wan as he walked quickly out to the school’s parking lot. “We’ve never made it past the first round of the debate tournament before. You could be our answered prayer!”

He slowed slightly, looking at her with a slight grimace. “Listen, Padme, I really do need to catch up on my studies this semester. But—maybe I will, next year.” She tried to not be too disappointed. It made _sense_ , but still.

Before she could do something stupid like shaking him around until he saw the light and decided to put his academic talents to good use, he was speaking again.

“What do you know about Anakin Skywalker?” The question sounded a bit loaded, a bit _too_ curious, and Padme couldn’t quite bite back her groan.

“Who told you to ask me?” She asked, giving him a look. “We dated _forever_ ago, god. I haven’t talked to him outside of passing in years.”

Obi-Wan blinked, looking surprised. “Oh, I, uh, didn’t know that,” he said, clearing his throat, suddenly incredibly awkward. “I was just wondering, like—I don’t know, uh—maybe—never mind.” His face was flush when he turned away from her, walking faster again.

Padme wasn’t dumbfounded for long. After all, _she’d_ clearly had a crush on Anakin, seeing as she’d dated him (albeit in middle school). Not to mention, she’d watched plenty of other people (some of which she’d been _certain_ had better taste) go through the signs. That in mind, she caught up to Obi-Wan quickly, just as he entered the parking lot proper.

“Listen,” she said. “That particular sub-species is pretty much in another universe to us at this point. If it wanted to be friends, it would be.”

Obi-Wan looked at her for a long moment, clearly still embarrassed, before he responded.

“He walked with me today, after homeroom. Seemed friendly enough to me.” His voice was measured. Clearly trying to play it cool.

That was surprising, though. Anakin usually didn’t stray outside of his posse, nowadays, especially not for new students. Still. It was basketball season, and Anakin couldn’t be assed to have a life outside of basketball during those months, ever. Padme knew this because the _last_ time he’d tried, it had been with her, and it hadn’t ended well in the slightest.

“Just see how it is in the cafeteria tomorrow, when you sit with us,” Padme said, stopping with Obi-Wan when he got to the car that must’ve been his. “It’s basketball season. Trust me, he’s not available for at least another couple weeks.” Then she paused, wondered if she should bring up what she’d figured out at detention, when Obi-Wan had jumped behind the moon when a man who he, for all intents and purposes, shouldn’t’ve known walked in. “Besides,” she said, lowering her voice some, “wouldn’t it be weird to date someone on your dad’s team?”

He whipped his head around, looking at her in a kind of shock. “How did you—”

“You literally jumped behind the moon when he came into the auditorium.” Padme gave him a flat look, and he deflated a little.

“Okay, yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “I suppose that was pretty telling.”

Padme nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “It was. Have you told him?”

“Anakin? No. It hasn’t come up.” She gave him a look and he threw his hands up. “I’m not going to just walk up to him and say, ‘hey, Anakin, you know how you have a basketball coach? Well guess what! He’s my dad!’” The last part was accompanied by a little shake of his hands, which contrasted nicely with his flat expression. It made Padme laugh a bit.

“Okay, okay. But if he asks—”

“I wasn’t planning on _lying_ ,” Obi-Wan said, a bit sniffily. “It just hasn’t come up yet. Besides, they don’t even have any games soon, do they?” The question was, again, a bit too curious.

“Not until the state championship, which is the same day as the first round of the debate tournament.” Padme ignored the look he gave her at the mention of it. “But don’t be too worried about it, there’s not much to miss. Just a bunch of sweaty boys running around. Nothing cute or romantic about that.”

Obi-Wan gave her a look that suggested he thought otherwise, a half-smile with mischief in his eyes that told her _more than enough_ about his opinions on that front.

“Okay, gross,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, and remember! Lunch!”

She saw him laughing a bit as he got into the car. Yeah. This was going to work.

She was going to win that tournament. And Obi-Wan was going to help her.

\--

**Anakin Skywalker:** hi padme

**Anakin Skywalker:** uhh um

**Anakin Skywalker:** shit

**Anakin Skywalker:** how are you doing?

_Read 10:57 PM_

\--

Ahsoka didn’t like the way Anakin was acting. He was practically her brother, and she knew something was up the moment she saw him in homeroom, leg bouncing, glancing back at the new kid. British Dude. Whoever he was.

The point was, Anakin looked nervous, and it didn’t get better when she tried to distract him. In fact, it was so bad that she _almost_ brought it up, but Master Yoda started talking before she could ask. Probably something along the lines of _hey, dumbass, got a crush or something?_

Something embarrassing like that. Though, to be fair, it was more likely to bump British Kid’s social standing than to ding away at Anakin’s. Not that the kid’s social standing _needed_ bumping, he was _British_ , for God’s sake. Ahsoka made a mental note to become friends with him so she could ask him to say “blimey” or “right, what’s all this then” or something equally entertaining. Then she remembered how weird the kid was making Anakin, just 2 weeks before their big game, and she scratched the note out.

After homeroom, Anakin just got weirder. Ahsoka tried to talk to him about what drills they were running during free period, when he totally deflected and came up with some _bullshit_ excuse about needing to do homework.

“Anakin,” she’d said. “It’s literally the second day back from break. Not even _I’m_ behind on homework yet.”

He’d ignored her. Of course. And given her the slip, which, uh, _rude_.

Well, whatever. If he wanted to be bitchy and blow off practice, she’d be the good team player he wasn’t and go and lead the team in some drills. And if he _was_ doing it for that weird British kid, well, she could think of more than a few reasons to dissuade Anakin from that particular course of action. Basketball-shaped reasons. Reasons that could be resolved in literally two weeks, if he could hold it together that long.

She shook her head to herself as she entered the gym. When would the insanity stop?

\--

Anakin had been feeling conflicted since Obi-Wan had appeared in his first period the previous morning. About lots of things. Most of which involving his extracurricular activities.

He wanted to sing. _God_ , he wanted to sing. Something about the night they met had gotten him obsessed. Even during basketball practice, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. And _that_ was a feat.

He talked his mom about it that night, and she told him that if his friends didn’t support him, they weren’t really his friends. Which should’ve been helpful, but it really just got him afraid that he’d end up both in drama club _and_ without any real friends. Except Obi-Wan, but he didn’t think that counted, given he generally didn’t spend excessive amounts of time thinking about kissing his friends.

He wanted that, too. He wanted to be able to date Obi-Wan, and have all his friends like him, and they could all hang out together after basketball practice. And Coach Jinn would take a chill pill or two. That would be the perfect world.

Well the world wasn’t perfect, so he found himself spending his free period sneaking through the school, taking the most roundabout way possible to the auditorium. It was a near miss with Ahsoka, then _again_ with Coach Jinn, and Anakin got a few dirty glares as he cut through the school’s auto shop, but hey, he made it, in one piece, with no one any the wiser.

Then he hid behind a mop cart to watch the auditions actually go down. It wasn’t that he was actually going to _do_ anything. He was just curious. So sue him.

It was… it was bad. Master Yoda was _brutal_. And most of the auditions were. Well. Was there a polite way to say _really fucking awful_?

There were a few kids with promise, of course. Ones that could at least hit the right notes at the right times, or ones who weren’t absolutely tone-deaf who showed some amount of acting prowess. Those, Master Yoda just _hmm_ -ed at.

The ones who got the words wrong, or were clearly tone-deaf, or who tried to add weird dance numbers in… well, Anakin certainly wouldn’t show his face again if Master Yoda told _him_ to “see a counselor, you must,” or “stop.” Really, just. Stop. He said that.

It was after a couples’ audition that Master Yoda dubbed “disturbing” that Anakin got the literal shit scared out of him by Obi-Wan, who had apparently decided to creep up on him while he was busy being entranced by the horror of the audition and the harshness of Master Yoda’s comments and send his soul careening out of his body for a good few seconds.

“Hey!” Obi-Wan said, putting his hands on Anakin’s shoulders and ignoring his jump and stifled yelp. “So, you decided to try out for something?”

“ _Jesus fucking Christ_ Obi-Wan, you scared the fucking _shit_ out of me,” Anakin hissed, turning to scowl at the other boy, who looked like he was trying not to laugh. “And to answer your question, no. I thought you weren’t signing up for anything either, though?”

Obi-Wan just raised an eyebrow. “I’m not. Uh, why are you hiding behind a mop?”

Anakin laughed awkwardly, realizing he looked stupid, and pushed the mop cart away a bit, if only so he didn’t start leaning on it like an awkward freak. “I, uh, I’m not. Anymore.”

“Your friends don’t know they’re here, do they?” Obi-Wan’s voice sounded almost sympathetic, and Anakin just nodded.

Looking for something to distract from that and worried about being seen, he grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand quickly and dragged him over to sit in the nearest seats to the exit they’d been standing in. As he did so, the poor soul auditioning got up, stood stock still, and opened their mouth wide, intending to sing when the moment came for them to come in, but was unable to actually produce any sound. Anakin felt Obi-Wan cringe next to him and honestly… he couldn’t blame the other boy.

“Hmm,” Master Yoda said, “If stage fright, you have, a place in the musical, you have not. Best, it would be, for you to go.”

The kid just nodded quickly and ran off stage.

“Master Yoda is kind of… harsh,” Anakin muttered to Obi-Wan, leaning in to make sure the other boy could hear.

Obi-Wan leaned right on back to answer, a note of humor in his tone. “The Wildcat superstar is afraid?”

The shithead was lucky, in Anakin’s opinion, that his breath ghosting across Anakin’s cheek distracted him enough that he couldn’t actually get offended.

“No,” he said, trying not to sound too miffed. “I’m not afraid. Just a little scared.”

Obi-Wan huffed a soft laugh at that. “Right,” he said, leaning back slightly and giving Anakin a sly smile that had him absolutely open to further mockery, as long as he got to see that stupidly good-looking expression again.

“Now, welcome to the stage, we must, Asajj and Savage,” Master Yoda croaked out in his froggy voice, completely interrupting Anakin and Obi-Wan’s moment. Rude. “The only couple auditioning for the leads, they are. Wish them luck, I do.”

Then the stage started bustling with movement, as if the ten people standing up there while everyone else auditioned had just been waiting for this. Asajj and Savage strutted up (well, Asajj strutted. Savage just kind of followed), revealing matching outfits, and Anakin could only watch as the girl was handed a bedazzled mic and the curtains shut.

“What the fuck?” Obi-Wan whispered softly next to him. All Anakin could do was shrug. What the fuck, indeed.

“Don’t ask me, I didn’t know these two had to put on a full performance to beat out their zero competition,” Anakin muttered, receiving a stifled snort in return and an elbow nudging his arm in mock chastisement.

“This is bound to be interesting,” Obi-Wan said in return, leaning in so close his nose was brushing Anakin’s cheek. A fact that Anakin had to do his best to not fixate on. “They do know this is an audition, right?”

Anakin could only shrug as a more upbeat version of the song the other hopefuls had sang (or, in some cases, tried to sing) came on through the speakers. From there, Anakin and Obi-Wan could only watch as Asajj and Savage delivered, as predicted, a whole ass performance. Choreographed and everything.

Through the flashiness of it all, though, Anakin couldn’t help but notice the pianist who’d accompanied all the other students—her name was Riyo or something, he thought—sitting on her bench, shoulders slumped. He remembered then what Master Yoda had said before everyone started getting up, a passing phrase he’d almost missed in his haste to hide so he could properly observe. _The music for this play, Riyo Chuchi wrote. Accompany you all today, she will_.

As Anakin watched, she bobbed her head along somewhat halfheartedly, gaze fixed not on the pair performing but the music which, even at Anakin’s distance, looked original. Probably. _Damn,_ he thought. _I’m willing to bet neither of them actually asked her opinion on their little arrangement_. Not that Anakin understood music or composers or any of that shit, but he could imagine it stung a little. Especially when it sounded so different from the more mellow renditions he’d heard earlier in the period.

When the two finished, the entire auditorium sat back for a moment in stunned silence, as if what they’d seen was something real, rather than an overdramatized audition.

Then came the applause, at first hesitantly from Riyo (after a quick glare from Asajj), then in full force from everyone else. Well, everyone who wasn’t Anakin and Obi-Wan, who were still trying to keep their heads down.

“Brava, brava! Very good, that was,” Master Yoda said, hobbling up onstage. Behind him, Riyo and Asajj seemed to be having some sort of discussion that involved a lot of looming on Asajj’s part. “Now, any more auditions, are there?” Master Yoda croaked, ignoring or perhaps deaf to the intimidation behind him. “No? Hmm.”

As the old man clicked off the lamp, Anakin felt some finality settle in his stomach. He wasn’t auditioning for the musical. He didn’t do it. And—the odd melancholy feeling in his chest aside—that was fine. Good, even. Now, he could concentrate on basketball and school and maybe even Obi-Wan without having to stress about singing, too.

_This is good_ , he told himself. _I don’t need a musical on my plate. No matter how much I want to sing, it just wouldn’t be good_. Never mind the fact that the musical itself wasn’t even taking place during basketball season. Never mind the fact that Obi-Wan _had_ said he’d come see him, and the prospect of that was, well, exciting. Never mind—

“Uh, Master Yoda, wait!” Obi-Wan’s voice rang out loudly in the now-empty-but-for-him-Anakin-and-Yoda auditorium. “I’d like to audition!”

Anakin’s jaw dropped a little and he quickly put his face in his hands, trying to process. There was no way Master Yoda was going to let Obi-Wan do a single audition so late, no _fucking_ way.

And sure enough, there it was. “In the world of theater, mean something, timeliness does, Mr. Kenobi, hmm?” The froggish man said, smacking his cane on the ground in the way he did when he was annoyed. “Long over, individual auditions are, and a partner, you have not.”

Anakin didn’t have to see Obi-Wan’s face fall. He hadn’t known the other boy for that long, but he could imagine it.

“Damnit,” he muttered to himself. “Fuck this gay shit.”

Then Anakin forced himself to stand up and walk a few steps closer to where Obi-Wan was about to lose an argument with the Drama teacher. “I’ll sing with him,” he said, raising his hand (why? He didn’t know. It just kind of felt right) and looking first at the ground, then up to Obi-Wan’s face, which was _delighted_. His stomach did a few flips at the sight of it, though that might’ve just been nerves.

Master Yoda, predictably, was not buying what Anakin was selling. “Hm. Not here, your sports posse is?”

“Team,” Anakin corrected, grimacing a little. “It’s a team. And, uh, no. I just came, uh, with Obi-Wan.” He awkwardly pointed at the other boy, who was looking nervous now, as he said it, as if it would actually help his explanation.

“Hmm,” the old man said. “See, I do. However, over, auditions are. Take these shows seriously, we do here.” He turned around and was mostly out of the door by the time he finished his thoughts. “Over, free period is.”

“But he has an amazing voice!” Anakin protested, walking forwards so he could put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. In hindsight, he probably _should’ve_ cared that he was yelling at a teacher, but he really could not find it in himself. It wasn’t _fair_. If anyone deserved a chance, it was Obi-Wan.

“Perhaps, then, the next musical,” the froggy bastard said, and left.

“Fuck, dude,” Anakin said, scowling at the door. “Sorry about—”

He was going to apologize for Yoda’s behavior for some reason, but a thunk and the sound of papers flapping around stopped him. Probably for the best. There was no need to continue losing his damn mind over Obi-Wan, none at all.

Quickly, Anakin looked over to the source of the noise and witnessed Riyo pulling herself off the ground. Without thinking, he ran over, managing to make it up the steps and onto the stage in time to help pick up a fair amount of the pages. Obi-Wan was there too, a step behind him, and the three of them got all the pages sorted out fairly quickly.

_Sheet music_ , Anakin noticed. Handwritten. Apparently, Riyo’s dedication to her art ran far deeper than he’d even begun to imagine. He couldn’t fathom how many hand cramps she must’ve experienced, writing all that out.

“You’re Riyo, right?” He asked as he handed over his stack of music. “The composer. You wrote the song Wonder Twins just sang?”

The poor girl just nodded mutely, purple strands of hair falling in her face.

“And the whole show?” He asked, more out of a need for confirmation than real curiosity.

She nodded again, raising a hand to push the stray hairs back, away from her tattooed cheek.

“Damn,” he said. “That’s impressive. I can’t wait to hear the rest of it.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers and smiled, going for friendly. She seemed a bit timid, and he didn’t want to scare her off.

After shaking her hand, he helped her up, and couldn’t help but ask, in a show of impropriety that would’ve had his mom giving him a scalding glare, “So, uh, why are you so afraid of Asajj and Savage? I mean, it is your show after all.”

Riyo just looked confused at that, but she did speak for the first time. “It is?” She asked in her soft voice.

Anakin nodded. Asajj and Savage had done a number on her, but even he, sans any real musical theater expertise outside YouTube bootlegs, could tell she was more important than she thought. It was _obvious_ , even just looking at the massive pile sheet music she’d hand-written.

How to explain it, though, he wasn’t sure. _What would Mom do?_ he thought.

“Isn’t the composer of a show kinda like the playmaker in basketball?” he asked, after a quick brain search of what his mom might say to make him feel better in a similar situation. The analogy felt right, even if both Obi-Wan and Riyo were giving him twin looks of confusion.

“Playmaker?” She asked. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You know,” Anakin said, trying to be as casual as possible, “the one that makes everyone else look good. You wrote the entire show, Riyo. Without you, it doesn’t exist. There’s no spotlight for Ventress to flounce her way though. You’re the playmaker, dude.”

He was pretty sure he’d given the right advice, given the way the tension released from her face a tiny bit.

“I am?” she asked in response, softly, hesitantly. Anakin was quick to nod his affirmation. After a moment, she looked him in the eye over the music she was clutching. “Do you want to hear how the duet is supposed to sound?” she asked.

“Sure,” Obi-Wan said, smiling easily. When his stomach flipped, Anakin made a mental note to figure out where the other boy stood on their relationship before he got himself over-invested, but a few notes on the piano and a pointed look from Riyo shoved the thought from his mind temporarily.

Now, Anakin had been forced through enough elementary school music classes to have some basic idea of how to read music. This, along with what little Anakin had heard of the song’s real melody, was what was miraculously pulling him through the piece with little to no awareness of what was really supposed to be going on. He caught a few glances at Obi-Wan, at repetitive bits or when he wasn’t singing, and saw the other boy totally focused.

_Angelic_ , his heart supplied. _Shut the fuck up_ , his brain replied.

It was a lovely song when he and Obi-Wan sang it, away from the stress of trying to please Master Yoda or the performance that Asajj and Savage had given. Sure, Wonder Twins’ rendition had been far more fun, but it felt far more intimate the way Riyo had him and Anakin do it. Plus, Anakin got to hear Obi-Wan’s voice again—the voice he’d been obsessed with since New Year’s; the voice he’d _almost_ called a thousand times before realizing how weird it would’ve been to call the other boy _just_ to ask him to sing.

Well, now he was singing, every bit as smooth and honeyed and absolutely perfect as Anakin remembered.

When they finished, it was still for a moment, a moment Anakin took to grin at Riyo and lock eyes with Obi-Wan, smile widening when the other boy smiled back at him.

“It’s nice,” he said, for lack of a better word, and Obi-Wan hummed his agreement.

Needless to say, they all jumped a little when Master Yoda’s voice broke into their little bubble, somehow projecting all the way across the auditorium.

“Skywalker, Kenobi, a callback, you have earned for yourselves. The duet from the second act, you will give them, Miss Chuchi, and work on it with them, you will. Hmm!”

Just as quickly as he’d barged back in, the small man was gone with a smack of his cane, letting the auditorium door slam in his wake. That was fine. Anakin’s brain was still trying to process what the _fuck_ was happening, anyways. They’d just been singing. Yoda had said they couldn’t audition. Now they had a callback?

“Oh,” he said, for lack of a better word (for the second damn time in the last 2 minutes), and Obi-Wan gave him a slightly wide-eyed smile.

“Oh!” Riyo said, sounding more than excited. “Okay, okay! Uh, if you guys want to rehearse anytime , I’m usually here during free period, or after school, and, uh, and even sometimes during biology class.” She flipped through her stack of music until she found, miraculously, a couple copies of what Anakin and Obi-Wan were going to sing for their callback, and handed the sheets to them. “You can come and rehearse anytime! Or you can come to my house for breakfast. I have a piano, we can rehearse there, with that. After school, before school—whatever works. After basketball class...” She looked up from her slightly-flustered frenzy. “Anytime!” she finished.

“Uh, okay!” Obi-Wan said, nodding at her. “We’ll, uh, let you know.”

Anakin didn’t say anything. Anakin’s head was spinning.

_Shit_ , he thought, putting the music in his backpack. _Oh, shit. This is going to be a complete fucking circus_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my favorite part of this chapter is the part where obi wan tries to Gay Speedwalk away from padme twice and fails BOTH TIMES. its almost as if
> 
> thank you for reading, let me know what you think!!!


	3. dancing with our hands tied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back! i have zero ability to process the passage of time so it's gonna be a surprise to all of us when i publish the other chapters lmfao. today's chapter title is from "dancing with our hands tied" by one miss taylor swift,,, is it obvious yet that when i don't know what to title something i go to her discography and hit shuffle
> 
> n e ways enjoy!! and apologies in advance for the entirety of stick to the status quo. just. forgive me

Ahsoka heard the scream from the front entryway. Hell, they probably heard the scream in outer space.

“CALLBACK?”

Asajj did _not_ sound well (not that she ever looked well, either), and Ahsoka couldn’t resist going over to see what was going on. And maybe throw in a jab or two.

“Maybe this is all some sort of trick,” Savage was saying, trying to calm his livid sister down. “Maybe we’re being filmed or something!”

Ahsoka laughed and came up beside them, putting an arm on Savage’s shoulder and using it to prop herself up. “Oh, what’s wrong?” she asked, feeling more than a little mean. “Someone gonna steal your spotlight? That’d…”

She trailed off when she saw the other names on the list.

**Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker (Breaking Free**

“What the fuck?” She said under her breath. “What the actual fuck?”

It all clicked into place, in a disjointed sort of way. Anakin’s behavior during free period. The weird lies. The even weirder obsession with the new kid. Had they _planned_ this? Ahsoka was pretty sure even a blind person could spot Anakin’s big gay crush on the other boy, but she wasn’t aware they’d even been _talking_ , much less singing together in auditions for some godforsaken musical. Well. A musical she, a woman with taste, considered godawful.

(She knew Anakin was into musicals. How could she not? He was her best friend in the whole world. However, not wanting to be shitty, she’d always just kind of ignored it. He didn’t make fun of _her_ for the _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ obsession she was not-quite-hiding. It was mutual respect, in a way.

Besides, she’d seen his fucking Spotify. Of _course_ she knew. Auditioning, however? She’d never once suspected that, least of all two weeks before their championship game.)

Rex was standing there next to her, and she could only turn to him in disbelief, all those thoughts still circling her brain. He was still staring at the list, mouth open in an O. She grabbed his arm quickly, dragging him away to go find Anakin.

She needed to figure out what the fuck was really going on with the Kenobi kid, and apparently, she needed to do it faster than she’d planned. She needed to save Anakin—to save the _team_ —from his cute-boy-induced brain rot before it was too late.

\--

Asajj was having a downright _awful_ day. First, the callback fiasco. Then—well, the callback fiasco had pretty much tanked her day from the beginning so there wasn’t really a _then_ to elaborate on. She spent all morning obsessing over how _exactly_ she was going to burn Skywalker and his boyfriend’s chances of making it into the musical in _any_ capacity to the ground, preferably in a way that would take them both with them.

No basketball lunk was going to steal her lead, not this year. It was her _junior year_ , for god’s sake. She couldn’t afford to lose out on any leading role if she was going to go to Juilliard. And she _was_ going to end up at Juilliard, no matter what Skywalker and Kenobi had to say about it.

Not that they cared. She doubted that either of them had any real passion for the arts. She also doubted that Skywalker even knew how to spell Juilliard.

However, she still hadn’t come up with a good enough solution when lunchtime hit. She went through as many scenarios as she could think of, trying to think of _some way_ she could sabotage their callbacks without making it obvious that it was her, to no avail. So she found herself spending her lunch period pacing on the cafeteria’s balcony—her usual place of eating, so she could look out at all the people who would one day be dragging out their yearbooks to claim they were friends with her in her youth.

Unfortunately, staring down at everyone didn’t make her feel better that day. No, it made her day infinitely worse. Because, apparently, Skywalker and Kenobi’s rot was spreading.

It started over at the basketball team’s table, where various jocks were socializing, the annoying blue-and-white-haired twat that never seemed to leave Skywalker alone sitting on the table.

The conversation looked normal enough, but that one of them—shaved blond head, named Ralph or something? Asajj didn’t care—was staring at his food, looking quieter than usual. Though that might’ve had something to do with Skywalker’s absence.

So she ignored it, fixing her gaze on other oddly quiet students around the room, until he spoke up, loud enough that she could hear.

“I have a confession to make.”

The conversation stopped and that idiot Ahsoka Tano peered at him, ass still on the fucking table, where everyone else was casually eating. Disgusting.

“Okay, go ahead. We’re listening,” she said, taking her basketball from where it had been twirling on her middle finger.

Ralph looked down at his food, then up again, determined. “If Anakin can tell his secret, then I can tell mine,” he said. Tano looked worried. “I bake.”

“What?” Ahsoka asked, brow furrowing. Whether it was out of genuine curiosity or disbelief, Asajj couldn’t tell.

“I love to bake!” Ralph said, more confident, face lighting up. Cute. “Strudels, scones, even apple pandowdy!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tano said, sounding pained, putting a hand to her forehead.

“What?” he asked, quieter, and Asajj had to strain to hear it.

“Dude, you gotta stick to the status quo,” one of the other players said, leaning in close of Ralph’s other side. “Especially since, you know, our game is in one and a half weeks? Now is _not_ the time for breaking social norms.”

“But Anakin—”

“Shut the fuck up about Anakin!” Ahsoka said, loudly, making the cafeteria go quiet for a blissful moment.

Then conversations started to break out again. Conversations that did _not_ bode well for the general pecking order of East High.

Over at the nerds’ table, she heard talk of… breakdancing?

“Hip hop is my passion!” A boy who could’ve been Ralph’s twin but for his dark hair and the scar curling around his right eye was standing on his seat, gesturing wildly to his friends. “I love to pop, and lock, and jam, and break—”

“Is that even legal?” A blonde girl with cheekbones that could cut a bitch asked, leaning away slightly.

The boy laughed. “It’s just dancing, Satine. You know, sometimes, I think it’s better than homework!”

“You cannot be serious.” She looked disgusted, at least, but a few other members at the table looked almost… intrigued. Chaos, the same that had already consumed the basketball team’s table, ensued.

Then, even more worrisome, a confession among the _slackers_ —

One with dreads and yellow tattoos was miming something. _Playing a cello. What the fuck._ What if he decided he wanted to expand his musical talents? Having someone like _him_ in a musical could not end well.

“A saw?” One of the other people at the table asked stupidly.

“No, dude, it’s like a giant violin!” The guy seemed ecstatic, but his friends… less so.

“Ew, do you have to wear a costume?” A girl asked.

“Coat and tie,” the guy said, looking proud of himself.

Asajj could only watch so long as chaos consumed the entire cafeteria. Friends yelling at friends. Ralph, or whatever his name was, was now holding a crème brûlée? Where had he even gotten that? She didn’t know what was going on anymore. It was pandemonium. And she would _not_ be standing for it.

“If one of my brother’s dumb teammates can try out for the musical, why can’t I dance in my free time?”

“I just think it’s fun!”

“Come _on_ , Ahsoka, you haven’t even tried it!”

Stupid, _stupid_ snippets of conversation—defense—were making their way back to her, and it was making Asajj pissed. Who were they to think they had any right to go messing about with things that had no bearing on them? Any of them? Asajj didn’t like change. She wanted it to _stop_.

“This is not what I wanted for this school,” she snapped, pacing back over to Savage and Chuchi. “This is not what I had planned for my junior year winter musicale. I don’t understand why everyone is so—” she glanced back at the crowd of students, still rightfully panicking about all the break in status quo going around. Like some sort of _disease_.

“They’re so _loud_ ,” she said, for lack of a better word. “Something is very, very—”

“Not right,” her idiot brother tried to finish for her.

“ _—wrong_ ,” she finished for herself. “We must restore the social order to what it once was. Lest _everyone_ think they can just go and try out for our musicals and our futures end up in shambles.”

That, of course, was the moment when he walked in. _Kenobi_.

She didn’t know what his game was. He hadn’t been at East High long enough to tell. However, if his parentage and penchant for making everyone act stupid were to be trusted, his business was bad business for her.

“Everybody, _quiet_ ,” she shouted, gaze still fixed on him. There was a lesson to be learned here. A lesson for everyone at East High. _No one_ messed with her musicals. No one.

The cafeteria went silent.

And, as eyes traced their way from her menacing scowl to him, she watched his lips move.

_Why is everybody staring at you?_

Then, Padme Amidala—because of _course_ it was Padme Amidala—answered. _Not me. You._

His gaze darted around, perhaps nervously. _Because of the callbacks?_ Amidala nodded. _Oh my fucking god._

Asajj was the first one to make a move, pulling herself away from the railing so she could walk down, but keeping her eyes trained on Kenobi the whole time. He clearly hadn’t figured out there was an upper level to the room yet, as he hadn’t seen her, but he would. She would make _sure_ he would. And then he would _suffer_. As she moved, a couple brave students decided to break the tension, and soon enough, the cafeteria was in chaos again, people jumping out of their seats and arguing and shouting, Amidala and Kenobi trying to squeeze their way through the crowd and find a relatively sane table.

As she stepped off the last step, a brief thought flashed through Asajj’s mind, wondering if she could use Kenobi and Amidala’s clearly platonic relationship against Kenobi’s clearly less than platonic relationship with Skywalker, and it distracted her for just long enough that she didn’t notice the cheese fries flying at her until they were on her dry-clean-only shirt.

So what if she screamed a little? She couldn’t help it. Especially not after she looked up and saw Kenobi, eyes widened in horror and tray suspiciously cheese-fries-less.

Amidala was quick to drag him a few steps back, even as he stuttered out a pithy apology in his stupid cultured tones, none of which Asajj heard because she was too busy of overcoming the shock of having ruined one of her favorite shirts, at _Kenobi’s_ hand.

Luckily, though, help was on the way. Behind her, Master Yoda hobbled up, with none other than Principal Windu behind him.

“Hm, distressed, you seem, young Asajj. A cause for your troubles, there is?” His speech patterns, barely tolerable on a normal day, were sending her through the roof. Fortunately for Master Yoda, though, she directed all of that at the boy whose arm Amidala was still gripping.

“Look at this!” She snapped, gesturing to herself then pointing at Kenobi. “That Obi-Wan boy just dumped his lunch on me, on purpose. It’s all part of their plan to ruin our musical.” Oh, this was a good route. And not necessarily a lie. “And Anakin and his basketball robots are _obviously_ behind it. Why do you think he even auditioned? And after all the hard work you’ve put into the show.” Now, time for her grand finale. She balled her fists up at her sides and spit out, “It just doesn’t seem right!”

Finally, she turned and walked away as dramatically as possible, ignoring when she heard Principal Windu mutter under his breath an exhausted, “Yeah. Right.”

Hopefully, the seeds of doubt, for Master Yoda at least, were sown.

\--

Anakin had no clue what he’d just walked into. First, everyone was yelling their asses off. Then, there was a particularly loud scream that could’ve only come from Asajj, causing everyone else to shut up in favor of seeing what the hell was happening with her. Then, he got treated to seeing Padme—yeah, _that_ Padme—grab onto a horrified-looking Obi-Wan’s arm and drag him away from where his cheese fries were all over a _very angry_ Asajj’s shirt.

He started to walk over, wanting to intervene somehow, but Ahsoka was there before he could start, grabbing his arms and pulling him back.

“You do _not_ wanna get involved with that, man,” she said in his ear. “Way too much drama.”

He just nodded, figuring she was right. Asajj, Obi-Wan, _and_ Padme? Absolutely not.

So he could only watch as Asajj spouted a bunch of bullshit about Obi-Wan dumping his cheese fries on her for the purpose of ruining the school musical (how those two things correlated, Anakin gave a lot of thought and still wasn’t sure), as well as some sort of weird nefarious nerd/jock alliance intended to take down the drama club, specifically. In short, a circus. Like he’d thought.

“So, uh, what’s up?” He asked Ahsoka after Asajj was done being dramatic and storming off and Obi-Wan was safely seated next to Padme.

“What’s up? What’s _up_? Anakin, I’m the one who should be asking that question here!” Ahsoka punched his arm as she said it, to which he gave her an exaggerated pout. She, apparently, wasn’t in a joking mood though, so she ignored it.

_Not good_ , his brain told him. _This is worse than I expected_.

“Let’s see,” Ahsoka said when he didn’t respond. “You, uh, missed free period workout yesterday to audition for some heinous musical. Oh, and now everyone _else_ thinks it’s okay to get distracted as well.” She pulled Rex, who was holding a dish of something Anakin couldn’t identify, towards him. “See? Rex is now wasting his brainpower _baking_. Crème brûlée!”

Anakin looked down at it. It looked good, whatever it was, he wasn’t gonna lie. “What is it?” he asked Rex, curious.

“Oh!” Rex said, brightening up. “It’s a creamy, custard-like filling with a caramelized surface. It’s really satisfying.”

“Nice!” Anakin said, nodding at the other boy, who nodded back.

“Shut up Rex!” Ahsoka said, flailing her arms out. “We don’t have fucking time to be perfecting the art of custard-like fillings right now, or did you both suddenly forget about our big fucking state championship playoff next week?”

Rex deflated a little and walked away, over to his brother.

“That was mean, Ahsoka,” Anakin said, frowning at her, but she just dragged him over to the table and made him sit.

“Look, it’s nice that people are mingling. Really! It’s great!” She said, still sounding high-strung as fuck. Anakin was about to suggest she waste some of her time meditating, but she barged on. “But we have our most important game of the season next week. We don’t have time for making friends right now. We don’t have time for baking right now. And we _certainly_ don’t have time for thinking about fucking _show tunes_ right now!”

Ah, yes. Ahsoka’s infinite hatred of Broadway. Anakin really should’ve figured that into the equation when he agreed to sing with Obi-Wan. Then again, he wasn’t a mathematician of any sort, so really, he couldn’t be blamed.

His best bet, he figured was to try and explain. “Ahsoka—" He started, but she just gave him a dirty look, then put a hand in his face and walked away.

Drama queen.

\--

Qui-Gon was having a nice, relaxing lunch, eating his sandwich and drinking his tea, before the old goblin in charge of the music department barged in.

“On the table, you will put your cards, young Qui-Gon,” the man demanded (probably), without even a hello.

“I’m sorry, what?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to not to sound too defensive too fast. He hadn’t done anything, had he? He wasn’t sure.

“Annoyed, you are, because gave your players detention, I did. Getting even, you are.” The little man seemed absolutely certain, but… what of, Qui-Gon wasn’t sure.

“What are you talking about, Yoda?” He asked, setting down his tea. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“Hmm!” The man smacked his walking stick onto the ground. Qui-Gon wasn’t sure that the man actually needed it or if he just kept it around for dramatic effect, but the effect was certainly working. Yoda somehow looked dramatic, small as he was. “Turned up at my auditions, your captain and one of his friends did. Gave him a fair chance, I did, as tradition, it is, in the theater. However! If planning some sort of practical joke, he is—”

“Anakin doesn’t even sing.” Qui-Gon cut the man off quickly, almost laughing. He couldn’t even think of one of Anakin’s _friends_ who might.

“Hm, wrong about that, you are, Qui-Gon,” Yoda said, “but made into farce, my musical will not be, regardless of how many new students brings he into this.”

The phrase _new students_ poked at something in the back of Qui-Gon’s mind—he _did_ , in fact, have one new student that he was perhaps overly worried about (to hear Obi-Wan tell it, at least). However, it was unlikely that whatever kid Yoda was talking about actually was his son. He was aware, after all, that Anakin’s friend group included pretty much only the basketball team, and he wasn’t much one to stray outside of those lines. At least, not when the state championship was looming. Qui-Gon hoped.

Plus, Obi-Wan hadn’t even mentioned Anakin when asked about his day. Then again, he hadn’t mentioned much of anything specific, just some generic shit about how the school was weird and most of the students were nice (Qui-Gon could guess who wasn’t, based off only literally everything he’d ever heard about the weird incest twins). The only person Obi-Wan had even mentioned by name was some girl called Padme whose name seemed familiar, not that he could put a face with it if asked.

So he put the phrasing off and blew out a puff of air through his nose. “Made into a ‘farce’? Come on, old man, it’s just a show. Kids in tights or whatever.”

That, of course, got the old man riled up, as Qui-Gon intended. “Knew it, I did,” Yoda muttered, smacking his stick on the floor and glaring at him before turning around to leave. “Knew it.”

Qui-Gon just snorted as he heard a yelp from some unlucky student somewhere in the locker room whose shins had had the misfortune of getting in the way of Yoda’s stick. There was probably nothing to worry about in that conversation. Nothing at all.

He went back to his tea, feeling just as relaxed as before.

\--

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan said as he plopped down next to Padme, now thoroughly embarrassed. That whole experience had been… awful, really. And now he didn’t even have any cheese fries. Not that he would’ve eaten anything anyways, what with the way his thoughts were circling a drain and all, but still. It was the principle of the thing. “Is Asajj really mad at me?” he asked.

She gave him a look that told him _exactly_ what she thought of the whole him-and-Anakin situation, then softened. “Look, Obi-Wan, no one has beaten her out for a musical since kindergarten,” she said. “I’d watch my back if I were you.”

He huffed. “We weren’t even auditioning, god, we were just singing.” Which was the truth, as much as Padme was raising her eyebrows at it.

“First of all,” she said, “Anakin doesn’t just _sing_.”

“You don’t know that,” Obi-wan cut in. “When’s the last time you actually talked to him?”

She gave him a hard look. “That’s not the point. The point is, you’ll never convince Asajj you were ‘just singing’ or whatever. Trust me, if she could figure out a way to play both Romeo _and_ Juliet, her own brother would be out.”

“Wait, they’re siblings though,” Obi-Wan said, now thoroughly sidetracked. “Why would they be playing love interests?”

Padme raised an eyebrow at him. “There’s a reason no one goes to any school productions. If there were any better leads, I’m sure Master Yoda would’ve replaced at least one of them by now, but there’s… not.” She grimaced as she finished, and Obi-Wan felt himself making a face as well.

“I see what you mean,” he said. “Well, listen, the whole singing thing just kind of happened, okay? Twice, actually, but that’s not really the point.” Padme’s expression looked neutral, but there was surprise under there somewhere. “And I mean, it was fun. I liked it. And I don’t know, I think he did too—”

“Sorry,” Padme interrupted with a cough that might’ve been a laugh, “are you still talking about singing?”

“Ha, ha,” Obi-Wan said dryly. Before he could say more, though, the bell rang and Padme pulled him up with a laugh.

“Let’s go,” she said, and Obi-Wan let him lead her out of the cafeteria.

\--

**Padme Amidala:** hey Anakin

**Padme Amidala:** could you maybe convince your boyfriend to join the debate team? we could really use his help this year

**Anakin Skywalker:** damn i didnt know u were that desperate

**Padme Amidala:** listen Anakin if you can get him to sign up for that stupid musical with you, you can get him to do debate

**Anakin Skywalker:** look dude idk what to tell you

**Anakin Skywalker:** he was the one who kinda roped me into that soooo

**Padme Amidala:** just ask him okay?

**Anakin Skywalker:** okay okay

\--

Anakin needed to talk to Obi-Wan about all this, badly. Preferably somewhere private. With a splash of romantic. And plants.

So, roof.

He was smart enough to just leave a note in Obi-Wan’s locker, at least, instead of trying to tell him in person. Even _he_ knew how badly that would’ve ended. As in, copious amounts of gawking from everyone around them. And Obi-Wan had had more than his fair share of gawking already.

So, note. Then roof.

It seemed to take forever for the sound of someone walking up the stairs to break Anakin out of the thoughts he’d found himself sunk in while waiting, most of which centered around basketball and the musical with a few detours for Obi-Wan. When he did break free of his thoughts, though, he was rewarded with the sight of a familiar head of hair shifting around to look at the area.

“It’s a jungle up here,” Obi-Wan remarked, and Anakin was slapped in the face yet again with how much he _loved_ the other boy’s voice. It was so smooth, and cultured, and British, and Anakin wished he’d say his name because seeing that mouth curve around the familiar syllables and hearing what it did to them was something he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of.

Instead of dwelling on that (not that that had been dwelling, that was just taking a moment of appreciation), he gave the other boy a grin that edged on grimacing. “Kinda like that cafeteria,” he said, hoping his tone conveyed an appropriate amount of apology.

Obi-Wan’s face crumpled, shoulders slumping into something not unlike shame and he rolled his eyes a little. “Don’t remind me,” he said. “I just humiliated myself into the next century.”

Anakin didn’t really know how to reply to that, so he caught Obi-Wan’s forearm and shrugged. “It wasn’t _so_ bad. Everyone will probably forget about it soon enough.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look too convinced but he thankfully changed the subject.

“So,” he said, looking around, not moving far enough away to let his forearm fall from Anakin’s grasp, letting Anakin’s hand slide a little further toward his hand, “this is your secret hideout. Seems pretty public.”

Anakin laughed a bit at that. “No,” he said, wondering what part of the roof was _public_. Sure, it was a part of their very public school, but it wasn’t like anyone who wasn’t him really came up here. “The, uh, Science Club is responsible for all this. All my friends and the rest of the school don’t even know it exists.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows a bit, looking around again, letting Anakin’s hand drop to his wrist. “You pretty much have the whole school wired, don’t you?” He asked. “Seems like everyone here wants to be your friend.”

He seemed almost envious, to the point that Anakin would’ve thought he was if he didn’t look so amused.

“Unless we lose,” Anakin said with a laugh that was more bitter than he intended it to come out.

Obi-Wan nodded, looking sympathetic, letting Anakin’s fingers fall over his palm. “It must be difficult, being the team’s star player. Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

Anakin shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. Playing it cool. “Just makes me practice a little harder, I guess.” Before he could elaborate more though, a thought sprang to his mind that made him huff a short, less bitter, laugh. “Dunno what Coach is gonna say about the singing, though. That’ll be a fun one to explain.”

Obi-Wan’s attitude shifted a little, noticeably, when Anakin mentioned Coach. Some of the concerned (about Anakin) tension in his body released and he seemed almost… amused.

“I’m sure it will,” he said. “Are you worried?”

The curiosity was genuine, Anakin could tell. But there was something else there, another reason for it behind the obvious. Anakin wanted to ask, but he didn’t know how to word it, so he took note of it and put it aside for later.

So, back to the bitching session.

“Everyone always talks about how… how good I am at basketball. How Coach must be so proud to have me on the team. How I’m the perfect playmaker. The basketball guy.” He took a breath and let his palm fall to match with Obi-Wan’s, felt the fingers hastily twining with his like they’d been _waiting_. “But sometimes I don’t wanna be the basketball guy. Sometimes I just wanna be, you know… a guy.”

Obi-Wan hummed, moving his thumb across the back of Anakin’s hand. “The way you treated Riyo yesterday… do your friends know that guy?”

_That guy_. What did that mean? Anakin had just picked up some music for her and told her how much of a bitch Asajj was. That was just… the truth. It was just him.

“What do you mean?” He was curious. He couldn’t help it.

“I mean, the guy who goes out of his way to make everyone feel like they’re important. The guy who’s nice, not because he needs something from someone, but because he knows it’s right. The guy who’s not too cool to listen to a girl’s problems, then sing to an empty auditorium just to help her feel better.” Obi-Wan just said all of it like he was actually talking about Anakin, not some sort of altruistic freak. Anakin felt his face heat up and he turned away for a moment.

So instead of acknowledging the enormous compliment being handed to him on a silver platter by a waiter who might even make out with him after to sweeten the taste, he snorted. “Better than a full auditorium,” he said, and he meant it. The thought of his friends seeing him perform was absolutely terrifying, to say the least. Never mind the thought of his _mom_ watching. God, no. The very _thought_ of that shit ending up on Facebook was mortifying, to say the least.

Why was he trying out for a musical, again?

Oh, yeah. He liked singing. And Obi-Wan. And singing. Damn… passion. Or whatever it was.

But that was beside the point, when Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and squeezed Anakin’s hand and said, “You know what I meant. Do you let your friends see that guy?”

Anakin shrugged. _He_ didn’t even know he was that guy, so he really couldn’t say either way.

“To them, I’m the playmaker dude,” he said, in lieu of a real answer.

Obi-Wan gave him an odd sort of smile. “Then they don’t know enough about you, Anakin,” he said, dragging him over to sit on a bench. “You know, at my other schools, I was the freaky genius boy. Coming here, being able to be anyone I want to be, it’s… liberating. It’s nice. As batshit crazy as this school is, it’s kind of growing on me.”

Though that was all inspiring and the sound of his name through Obi-Wan’s mouth was absolutely as mind-blowingly good as ever, his mind hooked on one phrase.

“Freaky genius boy?” He asked, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up. Then, before he could stop himself— “Is that why you’re hanging out with Padme so much?”

Obi-Wan looked at him curiously for a split second, then rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t tell me _you’re_ going to try and harass me into joining the debate team too.”

Anakin laughed and threw his spare hand in the air in defense. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Is that because of Padme?” His tone was teasing, but there was something under it that made Anakin very acutely aware that they were still holding hands.

“So she told you,” he sighed, slumping back. “And no, I just don’t hang out with that crowd—”

“—definitely not because of your ex-girlfriend—”

“— _no_ , because I’m too dumb, okay, and I have no place interfering with their… goings-on. Though,” he said, trying for some lightness, “she did tell me to harass you into joining.” It might have come off a little too defensive, because Obi-Wan’s amusement at his expense dropped.

“I don’t think you’re dumb,” he said, sincerely, and Anakin was _not_ going to focus on how sweet it was because that was a recipe for tears, and _that_ would’ve been ample cause for him to leave the country. “And for the record, I do appreciate you not doing that.” The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched up. Another thing Anakin didn’t want to focus on.

So instead, he snorted, loudly. “Tell that to my English grade.”

“You know, I could probably help with that.” He was _right_ , because of course he was, but Anakin didn’t want to give him the satisfaction outright.

“Maybe after the state championship,” Anakin said, carefully studying the way Obi-Wan’s hand looked holding his. “And, you know, the callbacks.”

Obi-Wan perked up a little at that. “So you still want to do them?” He sounded hopeful, and it surprised Anakin. After the cafeteria debacle, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the other boy had wanted to back out. He sure would’ve.

“If you do,” Anakin said, looking back up and getting a grin in response. And then Obi-Wan was leaning in, so far Anakin thought he might be about to kiss him, and he was suddenly _very_ glad they’d done this in private, because his mind was happily supplying him the memory of their New Year’s encounter, an encounter he was _more than happy_ to repeat—

The bell rang, scaring them both, and Obi-Wan jumped up and used his grip on Anakin’s hand to drag him along with, dragging them both down the stairs, laughing. Anakin couldn’t help but laugh too, as he narrowly avoided tripping over his own feet and sending them both tumbling down the stairs, and okay, it was still really stupid that he hadn’t gotten even a _peck_ , but he couldn’t argue with the merits of going to class, so he didn’t stop Obi-Wan to ask for one and instead let himself be dragged.

It was going to be more than alright, he thought. Definitely.

\--

**Padme Amidala:** did you ask him yet

**Anakin Skywalker:** no jesus we were talking about other stuff

**Padme Amidala:** oh so you talked to him, you just “””forgot””” to bring it up? I see

**Anakin Skywalker:** well no it was brought up but the vibe wasnt right

**Anakin Skywalker:** you know the whole harassment thing isnt gonna make him join yes?

**Padme Amidala:** well I’m sure as hell gonna try, whether or not ur actually helpful

**Anakin Skywalker:** ah theres the padme we all know and love

**Padme Amidala:** this is why I broke up with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you were wondering, obi wan's thought process the entirety of the roof scene goes something along the lines of "what the fuck are you doing just hold my hand dumbass"
> 
> thank you for reading !! kudos + comments are always appreciated :))


	4. been lost in the rhythm lately (don't know how to dance alone)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty ty to everyone who's like,,, paying attention to this in any way whatsoever. ily all
> 
> literally so many things happen in this chapter & it's all the fault of the hsm writers. definitely has nothing to do with my own personal ability to space things out. this is a fun one tho!! the end is my favorite :))
> 
> title is from "dance alone" by blanks, enjoy!!

The next few days passed quickly, in a blur of practicing for the callback and homework and Padme harassing him about debate, and honestly Obi-Wan hadn’t even talked to Anakin all weekend when Monday came around.

So he found Anakin in the gym after another stint in detention ( _more_ time for cell phone usage, unfortunately, though this time it was Riyo’s fault), thankfully alone. It looked like practice was over, so he didn’t hesitate when he walked in.

“So, this is where the magic happens,” he called out, watching Anakin shoot a basket effortlessly. No wonder his dad liked the other boy so much, he made everything he was doing look so easy.

Anakin turned around, ball still in hand, and snorted. “It’s just a smelly gym.” Then, before Obi-Wan could process what was happening or tell Anakin to _not_ , the ball was getting tossed at him and it was in his hands. He looked at it for a second, wondering how stupid he’d look if he missed.

Eh. It wasn’t like Anakin _knew_ he was the coach’s son. He didn’t think.

The shot, surprisingly enough, went in.

“Whoa! Don’t tell me you’re good at basketball, too!” Anakin said, jogging to get the ball.

Obi-Wan’s lips quirked into a smile. “Oh, yeah. You know, I actually won the state championship at my last school. Shot the winning basket.” Was that how basketball worked? Obi-Wan thought it was. He _really_ needed to learn more about it. Yikes.

Anakin’s jaw just fell open, though. “No fucking way,” he started, but Obi-Wan cut him off with an impish smile.

“Yeah, and that same day, I won the Nobel Peace Prize and was elected President.” Anakin glared at him.

“President. Very funny,” the other boy said dryly, bouncing the ball a few times before shooting another perfect basket. Obi-Wan was incredibly glad the other boy wasn’t facing him, as it gave him free reign to look at those _arms_. God, they were defined.

Trying to distract himself, he changed the subject.

“So I’ve been rehearsing with Riyo.” He said it casually, not really knowing what kind of a conversation he could make out of it. Oh well. He’d figure that out later.

“Me too,” Anakin said lightly, shooting another flawless basket. “Oh, yeah, and by the way, I missed practice today, so that should be on your conscience if I get kicked off the team—”

“—you’re not going to get kicked off the team, Anakin.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know that,” Anakin responded, taking his place right next to Obi-Wan again. “You haven’t met Coach Jinn. He might hate me forever. Being team captain and all, you know, it just really isn’t a good look.”

Obi-Wan almost laughed. _Coach Jinn_. Well, he supposed it was true, he’d never met his dad in _that_ setting. It probably _would_ be different.

Instead of unpacking the whole _dad_ thing like he probably should’ve, he grabbed the ball from Anakin and jumped away, not bothering to dribble.

“Hey! No! That’s traveling!” Anakin called running after him, to which he ran a few steps farther. “That’s really bad traveling!” Anakin said, right behind him, the moment before a pair of strong arms grabbed his waist and lifted him off the ground.

He let out a yell as Anakin spun him around, laughing, and pretty soon they were both laughing, Anakin’s arms still tight around his waist and his still tight around the ball, feet thankfully landing back on the ground, drinking in the feeling of being together, the way it just felt so natural, so _right_ —

Then the door to the gym opened, loudly.

\--

If Anakin was being honest, he hadn’t even considered the awkward conversation about the musical he was hoping to avoid having with Coach Jinn until Obi-Wan brought Riyo up in the middle of his practice.

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He’d thought about it. Briefly. He just hadn’t given any consideration to what might actually happen in the course of that conversation. Actually, most of his thoughts about it had gone directly into hoping it _wouldn’t_ happen.

Well, as the eternally cruel and quick-to-punish fates would have it, that conversation had the absolute pleasure of starting with Anakin’s hands wound around Obi-Wan’s waist, feeling the muscles there stiffen, hearing a soft curse slip out of his own mouth and onto the other boy’s hair—soft hair, nice-smelling hair—as the man himself walked in.

Anakin let go of Obi-Wan as quickly as he could make himself, definitely not letting any of his hands linger on any of Obi-Wan’s hips for a millisecond longer than they needed to and trying to figure out what the _fuck_ the expression on Coach’s face meant. He looked… confused? No. Concerned? Amused? Awkward? A mix of all of the above? Anakin couldn’t tell. His face felt hot, his face felt _so hot_. A quick glance at Obi-Wan and the blush dancing across his friend’s—boyfriend’s???—face was much lighter. He looked more annoyed than anything else as he slowly passed Anakin the ball back, and Anakin almost envied him.

As Coach Jinn opened his mouth, Anakin prepared himself for a question somewhere along the lines of _what the fuck, Anakin? Couldn’t you have listened to Ahsoka? Who the hell is he?_

Instead, he turned to Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, putting his hands on his hips, looking rather displeased, “you know how I feel about interruptions during my practices.”

Obi-Wan’s lips pursed. “It was just Anakin here,” he argued. Anakin’s brain was too busy spinning at a million miles an hour to fully process the fact that maybe arguing with Coach Jinn wasn’t a fantastic idea and that he should probably warn the other boy against it. How the _fuck_ did Coach Jinn know Obi-Wan? Did they play chess together or something?

Evidently, he had missed part of the conversation by the time he decided to tune in again.

“… until the last player has left the court,” Coach was explaining. Obi-Wan was still, unwisely, staring him down, and Anakin was about to ask because _fuck_ if he wasn’t confused, when it all came tumbling out.

The truth, as it turned out, was an excellent numbing agent.

“Sorry, dad,” Obi-Wan said, looking somewhat chagrined, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and Anakin’s brain clicked off.

 _You know what_ , he thought after what felt like an hour of nothing but the equivalent of a dial tone running through his mind, _I’m gonna think about that after I’m done talking to Coach._

He phased back into full consciousness just in time to hear Obi-Wan say, “See you tomorrow, Anakin,” to which he just nodded and gave a vague goodbye, then forced himself to not watch ~~Coach’s fucking son~~ _Obi-Wan_ leave. For his pride.

When he turned back to Coach, the man had another odd expression on his face. Sort-of amused, sort-of annoyed, sort-of… something else. Sad, maybe? Anakin had no clue where that might’ve come from, and at that point, he was too scared to ask.

So instead of saying anything reasonable, in a desperate attempt to break the awkward silence that had befallen them, Anakin felt his mouth opening and heard himself saying, “Uh, the whole detention thing, Coach, that wasn’t, uh, his fault. Actually—”

“Anakin.” Coach Jinn cut off his rambling as one would stop a convict from self-incriminating in a courtroom. Probably less of a metaphor than Anakin was hoping it was. “Our state championship game is at the end of this week,” Coach continued, regardless of Anakin’s building nerves. “Now, I don’t care if it’s the Queen of England who wants to hang out with you during practice hours, _nothing_ can distract you from this game.”

Anakin knew, objectively, that his coach liked him. He was, after all, the team captain. That fact, however, did not comfort him as he tried not to fidget under the cutting (if not cold) gaze he found trained on him after _that_ warning. Not an explicit warning, but one indeed.

“It was detention,” Anakin said, gritting his teeth. “Not our fault. But I swear, I haven’t missed any other practices—”

“But you’ve been distracted.” Spoken with the confidence of a man who knew he was right. Anakin pointedly did not move as the judgement, accurate as it was, was cast. He also, just as pointedly, did not answer, instead staring at some point over his coach’s shoulder.

Coach Jinn, rightfully, took his silence as acquiescence. “I’ve heard plenty of rumors about whatever the hell you two are doing with the—” he waved one of his hands in the air, gesturing vaguely “—theatre thing, and while I don’t want to tell you you _can’t_ do it—” Anakin glanced at the man’s face; another conflicted look “—I do reserve the right to ask you to drop it.”

Now that, _that_ got Anakin looking at Coach’s eyes again, waiting for an _if_ that never came.

“Wha—I—you can’t just—it’s not—” Anakin felt his face heating up again as he stumbled through his explanation. If it could be called that. “It doesn’t work like that!” He finished. “I’m not just going to _abandon_ Obi-Wan—”

“If this is about my son, I’m sure he’ll understand,” Coach Jinn said, frowning in an incredibly displeased fashion.

“No, it’s not,” Anakin snapped before he could stop himself. Why was he feeling so defensive? What was he _saying_? “I actually happen to like it, thank you very much. And it’s important to me. Like how basketball is important to me. So excuse me if I want to dedicate some of my own time to something that I _like_.”

He didn’t realize he’d been shouting until he heard the words echo around the gym. Luckily, they didn’t echo for long, as Coach Jinn was ready with his own rant.

“Anakin,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument, “you are the most important player on this team. Arguably one of the most important people at this school. It comes with your station as team captain, as playmaker, that you don’t have the freedom to do things just because you _like_ them. Those things cannot come in front of things that are really important.”

Anakin was dumbfounded by the spew of absolute bullshit being aimed at him for a few long seconds before he found it in himself to move, to argue, to drop the basketball and leave.

“Did you ever think that maybe I could do both?” He hissed, stepping past the coach, who now looked just as dumbfounded as Anakin had just been.

Then he got his ass out of the gym, where the basketball he’d dropped was still bouncing and Coach Jinn was, presumably still standing there. As he walked out the doors, though, he was treated to the sight of his teammates standing there, eavesdropping, Ahsoka at the front of the group, walking toward him, about to open her mouth, and it was all he could do to say a vehement “Fuck off” as he passed and went to go shower.

He needed some serious time to think. And text Obi-Wan.

\--

 **Qui-Gon Jinn:** Did you not tell Anakin we’re related? He looked pretty in shock there for a moment .

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** It never really came up ok? sorry

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** He’s not in trouble or anything, is he?

 **Qui-Gon Jinn:** No. But I did tell him that all his playing hooky with you during practice times would result in consequences.

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** Dad we literally got detention

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** It wasn’t even our fault, it was fucking yoda

 **Qui-Gon Jinn:** I guess that does make sense. Well be warned, any making out during practice hours and you’re grounded. 😊

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** I’m

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** Can we go back to the part where you were mad at me?

\--

 **Anakin Skywalker:** so. ur dad

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** Umm. Yeah. Sorry

 **Anakin Skywalker:** dude u cannot imagine the AWKWARDNESS of the convo we had after u left

 **Anakin Skywalker:** i wanted to DIE

 **Anakin Skywalker:** u fucking owe me for that

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** I’ll get u coffee sometime to repay the damages to your psyche

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** But seriously, sorry again. I didn’t mean to make things awkward

 **Anakin Skywalker:** yeah it was incredibly that

 **Anakin Skywalker:** n its fine just,,, u should’ve told me ur related to the man in charge of my entire existence

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** I know. It was wrong of me to mislead you

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** It’s just that I know how important basketball is to this school. And I didn’t want to be that kid that’s just “the coach’s son” you know?

 **Anakin Skywalker:** no, i understand completely

 **Anakin Skywalker:** reputation’s a bitch

 **Anakin Skywalker:** you’re forgiven dude, it’s alright

 **Anakin Skywalker:** ….. u know he told me to stop hanging out with u if its gonna distract me from basketball

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** Oh my god

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** Oh my FUCKING god are you serious

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** He just texted the same to me oh my god

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** Is every basketball coach so fucking psycho or is my dad just….. special

 **Anakin Skywalker:** lmfaooo

 **Anakin Skywalker:** yeah

\--

Anakin was still reeling from whatever the hell had happened at his practice the previous day when Ahsoka found him in the library, trying to find a dumb book for his English class, because of _course_ he still had classes on top of everything.

Dad? _Dad_? Since when was the guy Anakin had made out with at a stupid New Year’s Eve party and subsequently developed a massive crush on Coach Jinn’s _son_ that he’d conveniently barely mentioned before? The _fuck_? It was just his luck that the first person he’d experienced real feelings for since fucking Padme was—well—did he really need to go over the _son_ point again? He’d only just started processing the fact after that disastrous conversation, and now it was hitting him in full force.

Well. Good thing Ahsoka was there, chatting over his shoulder and distracting him from those thoughts.

“Listen, Anakin,” she was saying. “Be gay, do crime is, like, our team’s sub-slogan. Right below the ‘what team’ thing. And ‘get your head in the game’. But now is really _not_ the time for a bisexual awakening! Our game is on _Friday_ and you’re too stuck on this weird British kid our coach somehow picked up over the break and your weird singing thing to even care!”

Anakin almost argued back that _no, my bisexual awakening was_ The Mummy _(1999), you know that,_ but he decided against it. Probably for the better.

“Look, Snips, we just did it, and now it’s happening. Who cares?” He put a book back a little bit forcefully, and she grabbed his shoulder.

“Uh, what about me? Your best friend who doesn’t want you to embarrass yourself or forfeit our playoff for some elevated-IQ…” she trailed off, searching for the word “… Chad!”

Anakin snorted, but before Ahsoka could react, Ms. Nu appeared.

“Quiet in here, Miss Tano,” she hissed, giving the two of them a scalding glare. Anakin just pretended to be far too interested in the works of Shakespeare. Which was probably helpful, given he _did_ need to pick a play to dissect.

“Listen, Ms. Nu, it’s him not me,” Ahsoka said, before turning back to Anakin. “Look,” she said, “right now, you’re a hoops dude, not a theater kid. And trust me, you don’t want to be a theater kid.” She tried to hand him her basketball, but he pushed it away.

“ _Othello_ or _Much Ado About Nothing_?” he asked, as if she weren’t trying to berate him over his boy-induced life choices.

“Do _Othello_ , the dumbass main character dies in the end,” she snapped. “Will you fucking listen to me?”

Anakin sighed and turned her way, grabbing _Much Ado About Nothing_ off the shelf. “Listen, Ahsoka, just because I’m auditioning for this musical—”

“— _heinous_ musical,” she corrected.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Sorry, _heinous_ musical. Just because I’m auditioning, it doesn’t mean that I’m gonna turn into a full-blown theater kid, trust me. I’m not _that_ cringey.”

The look on Ahsoka’s face told him she disagreed, but she thankfully didn’t voice that concern. Anakin didn’t know how he would’ve responded. After all, she’d seen his Spotify Wrapped. “Look,” she said, “have you ever seen Michael Crawford on a cereal box?”

“Who the fuck—”

“Exactly!” she said before Anakin could finish. “He was the Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. How would I know, you may ask?” He didn’t, but she told him anyways. “My dad has seen that musical 27 fucking times. He has Michael Crawford’s picture in our refrigerator. Yeah. _In_ it. Trust me, Anakin,” she said, face all scowly, “if you play basketball, you’ll end up on a cereal box. You know, like a real person. If you keep fucking around in all this musical shit, you’re gonna end up in my dad’s refrigerator.”

Anakin sighed and frowned at her. “You know you’re kind of being a jackass, right?” he asked, plunking down at one of the library’s wooden tables.

“Yeah, maybe I am,” she said, tone defensive, “but I’m not the team captain who goes off getting distracted by some theater romance just days before our big game and still expects everyone else to be focused and on top of it.”

Anakin pressed his lips and scowled. Maybe _Othello_ had been the right choice after all. Then again, going back to get it would’ve meant him going back to the bookshelves, where Ms. Nu was probably waiting to yell at them again, so he ignored it.

“I’m not getting distracted, Snips, and _before_ you can yell at me,” he said, turning his scowl to her, “I’ll tell you that I’m perfectly focused when I’m in practice, and I’ll be perfectly focused during the game.”

“When you’re _at_ practice,” she snipped. “Look, team captain, we need you. We _very much_ need you. And you’re just—”

“Miss Tano!” Ms. Nu snapped it and Ahsoka finally stepped away from Anakin, snapping her jaw shut.

“I tried to tell him, Ms. Nu,” she said, glaring at Anakin. “I really tried.”

Somehow, Anakin knew she wasn’t talking about being quiet.

\--

Padme wasn’t surprised when Ahsoka found her before debate, not one bit. She also wasn’t surprised that the other girl brought friends, hence why she kept Sabe with her.

She _was_ surprised, she’d admit, at the audacity of their plan. Not necessarily _bad_ audacity, but, well… it was a bold plan, that was for sure.

“You’re sure this will work?” She asked after Ahsoka detailed it out.

“It has to,” the dark-skinned girl said, crossing her arms and leaning against one of the desks.

Sabe raised an eyebrow in that I’m-judging-you look she’d perfected years ago. “And you’re sure they won’t hate us?”

“We’ll be fine,” Ahsoka said. “Trust me, I know how to make Anakin say what he needs to say. If you guys can get everything set up—”

“We’ll be fine,” Sabe said.

“Good. Tomorrow then?” Ahsoka asked, holding out her hand.

Padme nodded. “Tomorrow. First thing.”

They shook hands, and Padme shook away the feeling that it was somehow wrong. After all, as Ahsoka had mentioned when she first came in: the boys needed to be saved from themselves. And Padme needed a certain brainiac to bring her team to victory in the debate.

Anakin and Obi-Wan’s musical dreams could wait.

\--

There was something incredibly unnatural going on, and Asajj had had the fortune (or misfortune, as it may have been) of seeing it.

Jocks, coming up to talk to nerds. Specifically, _Anakin Skywalker’s_ jocks coming up to talk to _Obi-Wan Kenobi’s_ nerds. Not good.

She and Savage came up on it as they were walking to the auditorium to rehearse for their callback. Their role-winning callback, not whatever the hell Skywalker and Kenobi were planning on throwing together. They got to that rehearsal _late_ , however, after seeing Tano, Ralph, and some other mouth-breathing ball shooter walk into the classroom that housed the Debate Club’s meetings. Honestly, Asajj doubted that any of them could string more than 2 sentences together in front of a crowd, so it intrigued her that they were in there.

“Something isn’t right,” she muttered to Savage, and dragged him over to the doorway to spy.

As they watched, the jocks walked up to Padme Amidala and one of her lackeys—a girl who looked an incredible deal like her—and beside her, Savage grimaced.

“They must be trying to figure out some sort of way to make sure their couple beats us out,” he said, and Ventress frowned. “The jocks run most of the school, but if Anakin gets in the musical, they’ll have control of the whole student body.”

“Not good,” Ventress agreed. “And, if the science girls get their twink hooked up with Anakin—”

“—you know, I never really saw him as a twink—”

“—shut _up_ ,” Ventress hissed, giving her brother a murderous glare. “Who knows the consequences of _that_ relationship. Plus, our show. We need to save it from people who don’t know the difference between a Tony Award and Tony Hawk.”

She said it was about social standings, because she knew Savage, in all his short-sightedness, was concerned for whatever reason, but really, she couldn’t care less. The actual concern was her involvement in the musical. If she didn’t get the lead, who knew where her chances of going to Juilliard were going? She didn’t like to think about it.

No, Skywalker and Kenobi had to be stopped. Whatever she had to do to make that happen.

\--

When Ahsoka told Anakin to come to the locker room during lunchtime, he’d assumed she meant for extra practice and he tried to decline. Then she told him she’d buy him lunch if he did, so at the start of the lunch hour, he found himself trudging over to his basketball locker, only to find the entire team already there.

“Uh, what’s up?” he asked, confused. He didn’t remember calling a team meeting. He didn’t remember _Ahsoka_ calling a team meeting. Why was there a team meeting happening?

Instead of answering, Ahsoka just held up a framed photo.

“’Shortstack’ Even Piell. Class of ’72. He was the MVP in the league championship game,” she said, looking dead serious. Anakin was still confused, but before he could ask, Rex held up another picture.

“Jango Fett, class of ’02. Also known as ‘Slamma Jamma Jango.’ Captain MVP of the league championship game.” Rex… sounded serious, too. What the _fuck_? Anakin really didn’t see the point of talking about a bunch of people who peaked in high school when he could be doing better things. Like finding Obi-Wan and telling him about how weird everyone was being.

Then, it was Lux Bonteri’s turn. Annoying as fuck, to hear Ahsoka tell it, but good defense. “’The Hammer’ Kit Fisto, ’95. Led the Wildcats to back-to-back city championships,” he said. “A legend.”

“Yes,” Ahsoka said, picking up where he left off like it was rehearsed, which Anakin had the sneaking suspicion it was. “Legends, one and all. But do you _think_ ,” her tone took an accusatory turn, “that any of these Wildcat legends _became_ legends by getting involved in heinous musical auditions just _days_ before their league championships?”

“Get your head in the game!” someone yelled. Anakin wasn’t sure who. His head was spinning. So _this_ was her point. An intervention for something that didn’t need to be intervened with.

“No,” she said, “they did not. They became legends because they never took their eye off the prize.”

“Get your head in the game!” someone else yelled. Anakin was too busy being offended now to bother asking who.

“Now,” Ahsoka said, louder, “who was the first sophomore _ever_ to make starting varsity?”

“Anakin!” someone yelled. God, the whole performance was making his head hurt. And _he_ was supposed to be the theater kid in the group.

“Who voted him our team captain this year?” Her eyes were fixed on Anakin’s, and the moment he saw where she was going, his jaw clenched.

“Us!” someone yelled. Anakin made a mental note to warn her against over-scripting for future interventions.

“And who is going to get their asses kicked in Friday’s championship game if Anakin’s head is off in la la land?” Ahsoka’s stare was _menacing_.

“We are,” Rex answered softly, not looking in Anakin’s eyes. He felt a stab of betrayal surge through him. Ahsoka had been _just_ as douchey to Rex as she had to Anakin, and yet he was turning his back on him now.

“Come on, guys” Anakin said, trying not to sound too defensive. “There’s fourteen people on this team, not just me.”

Ahsoka laughed, a short, bitter laugh, that made Anakin grind his teeth even more. “Fourteen?” she said, like it was ridiculous. “No, I think you’re forgetting the very important fifteenth member.” With that, she reached behind her and grabbed an upside-down photo frame, handing it to Anakin.

When he flipped it over, it hit him like a train.

“Coach,” he said.

“Yeah, him,” Ahsoka replied. “Wildcats basketball champion, class of 1981. Champion, and now coach. A winning tradition like no other.” She seemed to consider her words for a moment, looking down at the photo in Anakin’s hands, before meeting his eyes again. “He wants this team to win, Anakin. He puts his _all_ into this team so that we can win. And I don’t think he likes the idea of _losing_ just because his team captain decided it was time to—”

“Listen,” Anakin snapped, before Ahsoka could spout any shit about Obi-Wan at him, “if you guys don’t know that I’ll put my entire being into this game— _our_ game—then you clearly don’t know me as well as you thought.”

“But we thought—” Lux started, but cut off quickly at Anakin’s look. He was _done_ with their stupid useless intervention. The very fact that they felt the need to stage it sent a shot of something that _burned_ through his veins, making him want to punch something or run away or scream. He did none of those things. He forced himself to hold his ground, clenching his fists and squaring his shoulders.

If his friends were going to be shitty, he would just be shitty right on back. If their friendship with him was based solely on how well he was able to concentrate on basketball, then _fine_. He’d… he’d.

The things his mom said to him that first day back to school stung him again, harsh and biting this time. _If your friends are more concerned with who they think you are than how happy you are, maybe they’re not really your friends_. He shoved them away, not really willing to have a mental breakdown in front of his team. His _friends_. The people who meant the world to him, and vice versa, at least until he found interests that differed from theirs.

“I’ll tell you what _I_ thought,” Anakin said, bitterness wrapping around every word and almost choking him. He pushed it aside. “I thought you guys were my friends. I thought we were supposed to support each other. I thought that, we were teammates. Win together, lose together. That’s what I thought.”

Most of his team shifted uncomfortably, but Ahsoka held his gaze steadily. “But suddenly, with Coach’s spawn, and the whole singing thing…”

Anakin ground his teeth. If they wanted him to start spouting shit he didn’t mean, he’d spout some shit alright. Anything to get them to shut the fuck up. Anything to get them to _drop the issue_. He was sick of getting criticized for having a fucking life. The burning substance spreading its way through his veins made it up to his brain, choking out all reasonable thought.

He didn’t notice, in his anger, one of the boys pointing their iPhone’s camera at him. He didn’t notice much of anything, actually. His vision was going red.

“I’m for the team!” He said, probably louder than he should’ve, hands clenched, shaking. “I’ve _always_ been for the team. The singing thing is nothing, okay? Just a way to keep my nerves down, it means _nothing_ to me. You guys are my friends, you’ll always come first.” Time to put the nail in the coffin, the final piece of his performance to assure they wouldn’t start saying stupid shit to him again. “Obi-Wan is not important. He’s just someone I met. If you guys think that’s what it’ll take to win the game, I’ll just forget about him. I’ll forget about all of it, and we can go out and win.”

He cut off for a moment, looking at the faces around the room. They clearly hadn’t been expecting it, not even Ahsoka, who was staring at him a bit wide-eyed.

“Everyone happy now?” he asked quietly, slowly stretching his hands back out, fingers aching, still shaky.

Ahsoka gave a small nod, and he took it as his cue to go.

-

Obi-Wan was still processing his shitty afternoon that night when he got home and promptly collapsed into his bed.

It had started when he’d gotten cornered by Padme and some of her friends at lunch, including the blonde girl who always looked like she wanted to start an argument. Padme had been the one to talk through it, going on some tangent about intelligence and aggressor-worship and how that somehow related to Anakin (one of the least aggressive people Obi-Wan knew), and honestly, he hadn’t been listening until they pulled up the video on someone’s MacBook.

Anakin. Talking about how the singing thing meant nothing. How _Obi-Wan_ meant nothing. How he’d just forget about it all, at the drop of a hat. Like, well. He’d said it, hadn’t he. Like it was _nothing_.

That was the instant, when Anakin said _Obi-Wan is not important_ , that it really, truly, fully hit Obi-Wan how little he actually knew the other boy. Sure, they’d sung together. Obi-Wan had confessed things to Anakin he’d never said to anyone else. But Anakin’s confessions, if they could be called that, didn’t hold up under the afternoon’s new influx of information. How he wanted to be _just a guy_ and how he _loved singing_ and the way he held Obi-Wan’s fucking hand and almost kissed him on the roof. It was all just empty words and hollow actions, with no thought or care or real intention behind them. Lip service, of a few varieties.

In all honesty, he should’ve expected something like this sooner. He’d known Anakin for less than two weeks. A boy who hadn’t even called after New Year’s, though _he_ was the one who asked for Obi-Wan’s number. He wasn’t imagining that. He _remembered_ it. It was Anakin who had asked. And Anakin hadn’t called, had barely even texted.

So what was his game, then? Had he started it when Obi-Wan showed up in his first period? Did he just want to play with his food until he got bored, then to throw it away like, well, _nothing_? It didn’t make sense. _Nothing_ he’d done made sense. All the things he’d said to Riyo didn’t make sense. Was that another mask he’d put on? Another knife to push the food around with, to mold it how he wanted, before stabbing it in?

The answer came to Obi-Wan with difficulty, emerging from the recess of his mind he’d shoved it back to in denial. _Probably_. Forced to face the facts, he agreed. Anakin was _probably_ everything Padme had said, and more. Anakin _probably_ didn’t care about him. He _probably_ shouldn’t care right on back. There was _probably_ no chance Anakin actually wanted to do the callbacks.

And, lucky him, his phone vibrated right after that thought.

 **Anakin Skywalker:** hey can u call? i wanna talk abt some callback stuff

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** We don’t need to call. It’s fine, I get it.

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** You don’t want to do them, and I don’t either. You’ve got your stuff and I’ve got mine. It’s fine.

 **Anakin Skywalker:** hey whoa dont tell me u actually caved to padme

 **Anakin Skywalker:** u know u can say no to her right lmfao

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** Well she’s my friend. I have her and her friends. You have your friends.

 **Obi-Wan Kenobi:** You can stop pretending to like me now.

 **Anakin Skywalker:** wtf? dude whats going on

 **Anakin Skywalker:** literally where is this coming from

 **Anakin Skywalker:** what do you mean i dont want to do the callbacks? i never said that ??

 **Anakin Skywalker:** obi wan?

Obi-Wan could only pay attention for so long before he chucked his phone on the floor and ignored its buzzing so he could slump down onto his pillow and let himself dampen it and fall into a half-asleep haze of thoughts, most of which involved Anakin Skywalker’s horrible, beautiful face and his awful smile and the stupid New Year’s kiss and his fucking voice and how much, on every level, Obi-Wan was sure he hated him.

He wasn’t sure of a lot of things about Anakin Skywalker, but he was pretty damn certain that he never wanted to talk to him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahah... haha..... aha........ how y'all doin
> 
> listen it's not MY fault it's angsty, i didn't write high school musical. it is, however, My Fault that qui gon texts like my 85 year old grandfather, and for that i apologize <3
> 
> ty ty for reading!!


	5. but i don't wanna dance (if i'm not dancing with you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hell yeah it's 1am as i post this and what about it >:)) chapter title is from uh "holy ground" by taylor swift. its ok you can make fun of me i understand i would too lmfao
> 
> hope you folks enjoy!! <3

**Anakin Skywalker:** padme.

 **Anakin Skywalker:** what the hell did you tell obi wan?

 **Anakin Skywalker:** he’s spouting shit about me pretending to be his friend

 **Anakin Skywalker:** and ur stupid debate team which is why i assume u had something to do with the fact that he apparently hates me now

 **Padme Amidala:** I didn’t say anything, ani

 **Padme Amidala:** anything he heard, he heard from you

 **Anakin Skywalker:** uh what do you

 **Anakin Skywalker:** oh god

 **Anakin Skywalker:** you and Ahsoka..

 **Anakin Skywalker:** oh my god.

 **Padme Amidala:** it’s for the best, ani

 **Anakin Skywalker:** fuck off.

\--

Ahsoka Tano might not have been the smartest person in any given room, but she was, at the very least, woman enough to admit when she’d messed up.

One look at Anakin the next day and she knew she’d fucked up. Big-time. One exchanged glance with Padme and she knew she had to come clean—a task harder than it looked when Anakin stubbornly refused to acknowledge her and she realized he was _mad_ mad.

Taking a chance, she glanced behind her, looking for Obi-Wan, just to get a lay of the land. When she did, she felt a giant stab of guilt. Anakin had said some mean shit back in the locker room. She hadn’t _meant_ to goad him into digging at Obi-Wan, just at the musical, but once he started talking, he just kind of… kept going. And now Obi-Wan was sitting in the back of the classroom like a ghost, his very presence halfhearted.

 _Shit_ , she thought. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that her master plan had failed spectacularly, resulting in emotional damage all around.

Well, the only thing to do for it on her side of things was to talk to Anakin. A feat easier said than done at the present, but Ahsoka had a few ideas on how to find him. Namely, she knew about his dumb roof hideout that he was convinced was an absolute secret, and she knew he’d probably go there to avoid everyone at lunch. Which meant her plan of action was to get the team on board, then take Rex and Lux to track down Anakin and apologize.

When the time came, Ahsoka really couldn’t blame Rex and Lux (whose mountain-sized, not-so-secret crush on her she was, for once, secretly grateful) for dragging their way up the stairs. Anakin wasn’t often this angry, and his temper at the slightest offenses was already something to behold. This… wasn’t going to be pretty. Even she was feeling a pit in her stomach at the thought of the conversation she was about to have, apprehension mixed with guilt tangled with nerves blended with resolve and an extra guilt garnish to top it off, just for the flavor.

Not really the most fun of feelings, but it was going to take talking to Anakin to dispel it. So there she went, up the stairs, to the roof.

“Hey,” she said when she got up to the roof and spotted Anakin, sitting on a bench and brooding, looking forlornly out at the parking lot. “Nice view, Skyguy.” She tried to keep her voice soft, light. If someone asked her, she’d never tell them she actively tried to be _gentle_ with her team captain, but there were times it was better to just be nice about shit. Especially after acting like the world’s biggest jackass.

“Here to ruin more of my friendships?” Anakin asked, no small amount of bitterness in his voice.

Ahsoka felt Lux squirm next to her a little, but she held her ground. Anakin had been the one to tell her that, _always hold your ground if you think the other person might try and start a fight, Snips_. He told her lots of things like that between maintenance hacks whenever they hung out, _just because it’s cool_ but really because they both knew that shit was the kind of knowledge that might save her life someday.

“No,” she said, swallowing down her guilt. “I just wanted to tell you that we, uh, had another team meeting. And before you say anything dumb,” she said, raising her voice a little, cutting his scathing remark off before it started, “it was about how we haven’t been acting like a team. The rest of us, I mean. Not you. We’ve been really, really shitty.”

Anakin turned around then, giving her a look that read as _disappointed_ that cut her to the bone, and she had to push her guilt even _further_ down when he sighed and said, “Look, I don’t even want to talk about it.”

Ahsoka gritted her teeth. That had been another one, _if some dude is spouting bullshit at you, just grit your teeth and wait for your chance to prove him wrong_.

“We just wanted to tell you that we’re gonna support you, Anakin. We’re gonna be there for you.” She held his gaze as she said it, and was treated to the sight of his eyes widening a little. She nodded in response to his unspoken question. “Win or lose, we’re teammates. But more importantly than that, we’re _friends_. And we’ve—I’ve,” she corrected, remembering all the bullshit she’d spouted since the start of the semester, “I’ve been an awful friend. I should’ve been supporting you, but I acted like an asshat about it.”

“We all did, Captain,” Rex said, putting his hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder, and she was secretly grateful. He wasn’t one to let her stand on her own against anyone, and luckily, Anakin was no exception. Not that it was a _versus_ situation in any way, but it felt nice to not be the only asshat on the roof. “We’ve been tearing you down where we should’ve been boosting up. Even if you’re an awful singer, we’re gonna be here from you, from now on.”

This was good, Ahsoka thought. Their apology was going well. Anakin didn’t look quite as mad as he had when they’d first traipsed up.

“And, you know,” Lux said, with a dumb nervous laugh, “we don’t know that, because we haven’t even heard you sing yet!”

Well, it _had been_ going well, because apparently mentioning that they’d been preemptively judging his singing ability was the wrong move. Though maybe it was just the fact that it was the most annoying person they knew saying it.

Anakin scowled at them. “Well, lucky you,” he said, “you’ll get to be spared the horror. Cause, you know, Obi-Wan isn’t talking to me. Because, you know, you pressured me into going on about how little I cared about him, which you recorded and _sent to him_.” His face was dark, and if looks could kill Ahsoka would be dead.

Not that that was a position she’d never been in before. But, lucky for her, Anakin had taught her to get out of lots of things. Chokeholds, for one. The trunk of a car. A speeding ticket. And she was pretty damn sure that she could get out of a death glare she’d seen plenty of times before (though maybe not to the same magnitude).

“Yeah, we did that,” she said. There was no point in trying to mitigate. “I assume Padme told you?”

“We texted last night.”

Ahsoka nodded, a bit offended that he’d contacted his ex-girlfriend before his best friend in the whole world, but she pushed it aside in favor of actually resolving the conflict.

“Well, she’s talking to him now, and explaining everything. It was our fault you said all those things, and soon he’ll know.” She said it as optimistically as she could, hoping that it caught on.

 _Jackpot_. Anakin’s face brightened a little, and she felt a portion of the pit in her stomach ease up. Anakin may have been quick to anger, but he was equally quick to forgive, and for that, she was eternally grateful.

They were going to be alright.

\--

Padme made Satine and Sabe go with her to talk to Obi-Wan in the debate classroom, where she figured he’d be getting materials for Friday before he found somewhere to disappear off the face of the earth for the rest of lunch period. They grumbled a bit, but they _did_ go, and Padme promised them lunch later. Out of her pocket. God, she was nice to them.

“Obi-Wan,” she said as soon as she saw him, stepping directly in his path.

“Padme,” he said, a bit listlessly, but in a way that conveyed exactly how much he didn’t want to talk to her. She ignored it.

“Look, I’m gonna lay this out for you. We were jerks to you. Complete assholes.” She took a breath and looked him in his done-looking eyes, refusing to back down. “We thought Anakin and your weird musical thing was ruining our chances of having you on the team, so we—”

“And it probably was,” he said, a bit snappish. “But he said his shit and now I’m here. Done.”

“I wasn’t finished, Obi-Wan,” Padme said, stepping in front of him as he tried to squeeze past. “Don’t interrupt me.” He looked a bit more annoyed at that, but he stepped back. “Thank you. Listen, we knew that Ahsoka could get Anakin to say enough shit to make you want to not do the callbacks. We planned the whole thing yesterday, with the video and everything, and I’m really, really sorry.”

Obi-Wan had an expression like it was taking all his self-control to not roll his eyes. “Look, Padme,” he said, an edge to his tone that wasn’t there before, “everything Anakin said came from somewhere in his brain. And really, I have 3 and a half days to prepare for an entire debate, so, believe it or not, I don’t actually have time to agonize over some asshole’s feelings.”

“Anakin’s not an asshole, and you know it,” Padme said before she could stop herself. “If anyone’s an asshole, it’s me for prioritizing a stupid debate over our friendship. That’s whatever if we win or lose, it’ll go away, but I don’t want to have lost a friend just because I was too stupid to see what was really important.”

Obi-Wan looked at her for a moment, and she felt a spark of hope flare up in her chest. Then he opened his mouth and effectively threw a bucket of water on it.

“Padme, I’m sure we’ll be friends after the tournament. But everyone has those things they just can’t help but fixate on.” He said the words kindly, but with enough edge and heavily implied meaning that they might have slapped her across the face, leaving her stunned enough that she didn’t even stop him leaving when he brushed past her.

She wasn’t _that_ much like Anakin, was she? Oh, god. That was too much to unpack altogether, so when Satine cleared her throat and suggested lunch, Padme jumped on it, ignoring the added-in reassurance that they’d tried.

Somehow, it hadn’t been enough. Padme could only hope Ahsoka had fared better.

\--

 **Ahsoka Tano:** good news !! anakin is all good now

 **Ahsoka Tano:** our side of things went well. i think it helped that u two talked last night actually lmfao

 **Padme Amidala:** well damn good for you but I have to warn you

 **Padme Amidala:** operation Kenobi did NOT go well. he’s still pissed

 **Padme Amidala:** I mean, he compared me to basketball season anakin

 **Padme Amidala:** it was bad

 **Ahsoka Tano:** OH NO

 **Ahsoka Tano:** tho to be fair u WERE actively seeking him out for like a week straight for the sole purpose of recruiting him to the debate team

 **Padme Amidala:** okay yeah but like

 **Padme Amidala:** shut up okay idk what to do! this is bad

 **Ahsoka Tano:** yeah dude ik ik

 **Ahsoka Tano:** if u couldn’t get thru to him…. i dont think anyone whos not anakin is gonna b able to

 **Padme Amidala:** fuck!

\--

“You said you wanted to talk?”

Obi-Wan sounded grumpy, looked grumpy, arms crossed in the doorway to Qui-Gon’s office, and he couldn’t help but cringe internally, just a little. Was that all on him? It was likely. He had, after all, explicitly told both Obi-Wan and his maybe-boyfriend he didn’t want them hanging out. Anakin was already mad, but then again, Anakin was a hothead, had always been. Qui-Gon would be lying if he claimed to know how Obi-Wan would react, which bothered him. Hence the lunch meeting—figuring it out.

“I wanted to eat lunch with my son,” he responded calmly, trying to play it off, as if he wasn’t trying to make sure his son didn’t hate him or anything dramatic like that. If Obi-Wan _was_ really that mad, he’d probably bring it up and they could sort it out. He couldn’t be _that_ passive-aggressive. “Is that an issue?”

Obi-Wan scowled in response—not good—but after a moment, glanced into the hall behind him, then, grudgingly, took a seat across from Qui-Gon and pulled out a sandwich and what looked like half a forest’s worth of papers.

“What’s that?” Qui-Gon asked, both out of sheer curiosity and slight horror.

Obi-Wan looked up at him sharply, mouth already half-full of sandwich, as if he’d been expecting Qui-Gon to just not ask. Which, really, didn’t make any sense. It was his whole _job_ to pry when his son appeared to be carrying a half-forest around with him.

“Why do you ask?” Obi-Wan’s tone was sour. As it turned out, he _was_ that passive-aggressive, a trait he could’ve only inherited from his mother.

Qui-Gon let it go. The whole conversation, really, was getting him really good at letting things go. Maybe by the end of it, he’d even be able to let his eternal hatred of Yoda go.

Unlikely.

“What kind of a father would I be if I didn’t ask?” Qui-Gon replied, hoping to lighten the mood at least a little.

Bad move, as it turned out. “I dunno,” Obi-Wan muttered. “What kind of a father forbids his children from fucking hanging out with their friends?”

“Look,” he said, trying to sound calm. Letting it go. Trying to actually parent Obi-Wan instead of getting mad at him for insulting his parenting skills. “I told you two the same thing. This is for the good of the team, my _job_ —”

“Oh, sure you did.” Obi-Wan was snappish now, accent thickening like his mother’s used to when she was angry. Qui-Gon could only thank his lucky stars that Obi-Wan had been living in America long enough that his didn’t go as fully incomprehensible as hers used to. “Sure explains why he hates me so much. Or why me and him spending our free time how we wanted to had any bearing on your stupid fucking basketball game that no one even fucking cares about—”

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon snapped. So that was the end of his patience with his son, then. It was an interesting thing to learn, that limit. “I said nothing to him that I didn’t say to you. How he took it—”

“It’s not the fact that he wouldn’t care if I disappeared off the face of the planet, okay?” Obi-Wan was half-standing, leaning over the desk when he said it. Well, yelled probably would’ve been a more accurate descriptor. He yelled it. “It’s the fact that you thought you had any fucking right to tell us it was forbidden. There’s no excuse!” He cut Qui-Gon’s words off, not even half-formed in his mouth, before he could speak. “It just doesn’t—ugh! I’m so tired of everyone thinking they can mess with my life!”

And with that, he shoved his mountain of papers back in his backpack, grabbed his sandwich, and left. And Qui-Gon was too busy being dumbfounded to even call out after him, to even worry about the argument he only half-heard somewhere back in the locker room.

 _He’s right, you know_ , a small voice in the back of his head whispered.

 _I wish he wasn’t_ , he replied.

\--

 **Anakin Skywalker:** hey uh im still trying to figure out why u gave me ur music earlier ????

 **Anakin Skywalker:** do u think can we meet?

 **Anakin Skywalker:** i have some things i need to explain

 **Anakin Skywalker:** i’ll be at the park at 7

_Read 5:41 PM_

\--

Obi-Wan had no clue why Anakin was calling him, but he had half a mind to decline it and throw his phone in a blender.

He answered.

“Hello?” He hoped he was coming off as tired as he felt.

“Look, I know you didn’t show up tonight and that’s fair and you probably don’t want to see me, but I have to explain. What you heard the other day, none of that is true.” Anakin’s voice crackled loudly, urgently through his speakers, and Obi-Wan almost wanted to believe him. Instead, he just let the other boy keep talking. “I was sick of my friends riding me about the whole singing thing, so I said a bunch of shit I didn’t mean. Just to shut them up. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips and got up, turning his light on.

“You sounded pretty convincing to me.” Not that he didn’t sound convincing now, but there was no way Obi-Wan was giving any benefit of any doubt. Not for this.

“Listen,” Anakin said earnestly, “I swear I’m not that guy my friends videotaped. That’s not me. The guy you met on vacation, that’s the real me. He’s a million times more me than the guy who said all that dumb shit the other day. I promise.”

Obi-Wan tried not to snap. Since when did Anakin just get to _decide_ that just because he didn’t care when it was just them, it wouldn’t change anything around anyone else? Like his stupid, _stupid_ friends who apparently didn’t give half a shit about his feelings, much less Obi-Wan. It was unfair, that the other boy was so absolutely sure nothing would change and Obi-Wan was the one left clinging onto realism.

“The whole singing thing is just making the school freak out,” he said. “You said it yourself. You said all that shit to try and appease your friends. And you’re apologizing now, and telling me you still want to sing, but what about tomorrow? What about when you’re back around them?” He slumped down on his bed, looking away from the window. Wishing he’d ever left the call and just gone to bed in the first place. “Everyone is treating you differently,” he continued. “You said that too. How are you planning on navigating that?”

Anakin was quiet for a moment.

“Well first of all,” he said after the pause, “my friends apologized. They said they’ll support me from now on. They’re not gonna be shitty again. And everyone else? Fuck everyone else. If they can’t handle the fact that I’m not just the basketball guy anymore, that’s their problem.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “What a novel idea. You know, a variety of extracurriculars tends to look good on college applications. That is, if your coach isn’t too worried about your ability to think of anything outside a smelly court.”

“This has nothing to do with him!” Anakin sounded like he was trying to keep himself quiet, but for what reason, Obi-Wan couldn’t fathom. It wasn’t like it was late, there was no way his mom was in bed yet. “This is about me, and what I want. And I want to sing.” He paused for a moment. Then, unsure— “Do you?”

Obi-Wan sighed and stood up again. The calling, the inability to see Anakin’s face, it was making him antsy.

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie, not in the slightest. Because he _did_ , he wanted it more than _anything_ , but he didn’t want to have to live through Anakin backing out on him again. Or any other fiascos the universe of East High would inevitably try and throw him into.

“Well you should really say yes because it would be awkward if I came all this way for nothing,” Anakin said, and his voice sounded less phone-crunched than it should’ve.

“Oh, my god,” he said, closing his eyes. “You’re not…”

“Turn around.”

Obi-Wan did slowly, throwing his phone onto his bed when he saw Anakin waving awkwardly from the balcony. Why his room had a balcony, he had no clue. Not that he was complaining now, of course.

When he opened the door, Anakin tumbled in, right into Obi-Wan’s personal space.

“Hey,” the other boy said softly, grabbing Obi-Wan’s elbows and effectively making his mind go blank. He hadn’t known whether he was going to hit the other boy or leave it be, but having him so close again was making his heart do stupid shit and it was all he could do to just stand there, frozen. “I, uh. I was gonna sing for you. Then I remembered that your dad lives here too and I, um, definitely want to be able to look him in the eye tomorrow. So I decided it would probably be better to be, uh, quieter.” His face was red, but they were only inches from each other. “But,” the other boy continued, holding up one of his hands, clenched in a fist around some papers, “I did bring you your music back. Nice heart.”

Obi-Wan felt his face heat up and snatched the doodled-on music, looking it over before chucking it aside. “Funny,” he said dryly, feeling lighter than he had in days.

“Well?” Anakin asked, voice softer than before, hopeful. “It is a pairs audition, after all.”

Obi-Wan moved slowly, bringing his hands to Anakin’s face. The hand on his elbow didn’t move, but the one that had let go he felt crawl around his waist. As much as he wanted to just say yes, though, he couldn’t quite get the words out.

“Anakin,” he said, doing his best to detach himself from his emotions. He wasn’t about to _cry_ in front of the other boy, no fucking way. “All that shit you said about _me_ , though—”

“I didn’t mean it,” Anakin said softly. “None of it, I—I should never have said it.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it _hurt_ ,” Obi-wan said, ignoring the sudden roughness of his voice, the stinging of his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry, not over this. Not fucking _again_. At least, not in front of Anakin. “You get that, don’t you?” He asked, looking the other boy in the eyes. “You said you didn’t care about me and it hurt. And I—” He broke off, looked up, ignored the way Anakin was watching him, bearing witness to whatever emotional display his face decided on. “I don’t know how to reconcile that with who I thought you were,” he finished.

Anakin’s gaze was just short of pitying, and it would’ve annoyed him if he didn’t look so damn _sorry_ as well.

“That wasn’t me,” he said confidently yet softly, raising a hand to Obi-Wan’s cheek and brushing something away there. Not a tear. He wasn’t crying. “I know I said those things, but that wasn’t me. You said it yourself, or I guess I said it. I just said those things to appease a bunch of people who don’t need appeasing anymore.”

Anakin paused for a long moment before talking again, and Obi-Wan let the silence be. He’d said his bit, and he was curious about how Anakin planned to reconcile everything.

“I do, uh, actually care about you,” Anakin breathed the words into the space between their mouths. “A lot.” And he wasn’t lying, and Obi-Wan let them live there a moment, because Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t lying. It wasn’t because he couldn’t tell whose heartbeat was pounding between them or because he knew Anakin’s quickened breaths weren’t due to _that_ kind of stress. It was because of Anakin’s eyes, blue and wide and sincere, and the way they looked into his, asking for a forgiveness that had been trying to slip out since the other boy had appeared on his balcony.

Obi-Wan gave it with a kiss, pressed to the other boy’s cheek, and another on his jawline, and he _felt_ Anakin relax into it, in the soft movement of muscles under his skin as his jaw relaxed and in the slight shift of his arms when he relaxed those muscles and in the sigh that ghosted past Obi-Wan’s ear.

When Obi-Wan broke away, Anakin, without warning, wrapped his arms fully around him and he could do nothing but hug him back, for a long while. It was nice, though, the proximity soothing. Anakin’s arms were firm around Obi-Wan, the taller boy’s hands bunched in his shirt, a face buried in his neck.

When Anakin pulled away, Obi-Wan was nice enough to not comment on his red-rimmed eyes, and in return, Anakin grinned at him and didn’t comment on his matching ones.

“So that was a yes, right?”

\--

Whatever the jocks and nerds had planned, apparently it was _working_. The past day or so, Skywalker and Kenobi had seemed even _more_ annoyingly in-sync than normal, if that was possible. And they kept looking at one another in a way that made Asajj want to vomit. Whatever was going on couldn’t be good.

“We have to do something, brother,” she hissed to Savage as they set up for their daily after-school rehearsal in the auditorium. Their home. _Theirs_. Not some half-brained lunk and smooth-talking Brit. Them.

“I don’t know, sister,” Savage said. “We can’t do anything to sabotage them outright—”

“Quiet,” she snapped. “I’m thinking of a _real_ plan. Our callbacks are tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, but—”

“And their game and debate are on Friday. But I wonder… wouldn’t it be a shame if all those events were happening on the same day, at the same time?” She looked at him, smirking, but the idiot just looked confused.

“But that wouldn’t work out!” he said. “Because then, Obi-Wan and Anakin wouldn’t… ohh,” he finished, face clearing the moment he finally picked up on what she was saying. “I’m proud to call you my sister.”

“I wish I could say the same,” she muttered, and went off to go find Yoda.

As it turned out, it wasn’t difficult. And, even better, the old frog , was willing to listen.

“Hm,” he said, walking them at turtle speed across the stage, “if telling me, you are, that better for this musical, changing the date of the callbacks would be…” he trailed off, seeming to think for a moment. Asajj and Savage waited with bated breath. “Agree with you, I do,” he finally said, and it was all Asajj could do to not cheer.

She grabbed Savage and dragged him off to their practice room, as quickly as she could without drawing undue suspicion, not even noticing Riyo’s eyes following them in her haste.

“Uh, was that a yes?” he asked her once they were inside, ever the idiot.

She just grinned sharply. He’d figure it out.

\--

“Hey.” The voice behind his shoulder was familiar, but not Anakin or Padme, so Obi-Wan didn’t bother to look up, only swallowing his bite before answering.

“Yeah?” he asked. “If this is about joining another club, can it wait until Saturday?”

He was only half-joking. The pile of papers in front of him was massive, and he was only glad he’d memorized his music already. The rest of his workload for the foreseeable (until Friday’s debate) future was too big to even consider slowing down to sing for longer than his and Anakin’s rehearsals.

“It’s not, I just, uh.” The voice paused, and he heard the chair next to his scraping out and someone sitting in it, finally prompting him to look up.

It was Ahsoka, who was grimacing, feet on the chair and knees tucked to her chest. “Look,” he said. “If this is because Anakin—”

“He doesn’t know I’m here!” Ahsoka said, throwing her hands up. “I’m actually, uh, supposed to be at practice right now, so if I get kicked off the team—”

Obi-Wan gave her a look and cut her off. “Ahsoka, you’re not gonna get kicked off the team,” he snorted. “Why does everyone think that joke is funny?”

“Uh, because it _is_ ,” she said, pretending to be offended. “But that wasn’t my point. Or why I came here. Actually, I, uh, I wanted to apologize.”

He couldn’t help it. Obi-Wan had to raise an eyebrow at that. “Really?” He asked, dryly.

“Yes, really,” she said, “and I’m not even gonna tell you that that was mean, because I’m apologizing. Because, objectively, I was meaner.”

Okay, her sass was a little endearing, but Obi-Wan told himself he wasn’t going to cave to it. Not until she actually apologized for being shitty. Which she was probably going to soon, but whatever. He was feeling petty, so sue him.

“Look,” she said when he didn’t say anything, “I know I haven’t been the nicest lately. Not to Anakin, and especially not to you. Which is probably worse, cause I don’t even know you. And I’m really sorry about that.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “Yeah, you were kind of an asshole,” he said, looking at her to make sure she knew he was only mostly serious, then taking a bite of his sandwich so he didn’t have to say more.

“I prefer the term ass _hat_ ,” she said, giving him a small smile and putting one foot on the floor. “It’s more dignified. And a hat is something you can take off. You can’t really take your hole out.”

Obi-Wan snorted a bit around his mouthful and when he made eye contact with Ahsoka, it was all he could do to not choke on his food in a fit of laughter. He forced himself to calm down enough to swallow it before catching her eye again.

“But,” he said seriously, holding the eye contact, “the hat is off now, right?”

She nodded eagerly. “Totally off. I’m 100% hat-less. No asses on my head anymore. Though,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “I do reserve the right to hate musical theater.”

He smiled, for real this time. “Sounds fair to me,” he said, and she grinned and shifted the leg next to her chest so her knee was sticking out sideways.

“Great! Good. Cool.” She pumped one of her fists, just a little, but enough for Obi-Wan to give her a judging look through the new bite of sandwich in his mouth.

She looked embarrassed for a moment, trying to play it off by putting her fist to her side and smiling awkwardly, before narrowing her eyes at him suddenly. “You know you’re not supposed to eat in the library, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No one’s stopped me yet,” he replied after a quick swallow.

She laughed then, carefree and sudden, and gave him an evil grin. “I think we’re gonna be great friends."

As she held her hand out, he shook it. Friends, indeed.

Things were looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps chapter* this bad boy can fit so many apologies in it
> 
> thank you all for reading!! every time i see that people have read this it gives me serotonin i just THANK YOU yeah <333
> 
> feel free to leave a comment!! let me know what you think :))


	6. dance with me, baby!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is it, folks. it's been a journey. i'm feelin a little melancholy about the whole this being the last chapter thing, i'm not gonna lie :((
> 
> title is from "dance, baby!" by boy pablo, plot holes are both disney-made and home-grown organic <3 i hope you enjoy this one!! tysm for reading all of this :))

**Padme Amidala:** hey are you and obi wan cool now?

 **Anakin Skywalker:** why do u care

 **Padme Amidala:** because youre my friend and hes my friend and I feel like absolute shit about it

 **Padme Amidala:** also hes not talking to me so its not like I can just ask him

 **Anakin Skywalker:** lmfao im pretty sure he turned his phone off to study for ur debate

 **Padme Amidala:** so you guys are good??

 **Anakin Skywalker:** yeah were good

 **Padme Amidala:** are we good?

 **Anakin Skywalker:** it’s been a long time since we were friends, pads

 **Anakin Skywalker:** but it would be nice if we could do that again :))

 **Padme Amidala:** :D

\--

It was Thursday when the giant sign appeared on the callbacks poster, informing the student body of their move. To Friday. The next day. The same day—the same _time_ —as the state championship and debate.

“Oh, shit,” Ahsoka said when she saw it, pausing her explanation of exactly how hot the girl at her usual coffee shop was (for Obi-Wan’s benefit, of course. Everyone else had heard this about 20 times and was pointedly ignoring her) to gape.

“Wha-oh, _shit_ ,” Obi-Wan said, staring at the list.

Anakin noticed next. “No,” he said, “Callbacks at the same time as the game?”

“And the debate,” Obi-Wan finished with a grimace. Ahsoka could _see_ his blood pressure rising, and she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed in solidarity.

“Why would they do that?” Padme asked, forehead creasing.

Ahsoka snorted. “Isn’t it obvious? I smell a rat named Yoda.”

“Actually,” a short girl with a sweet voice Ahsoka didn’t know piped up, definitely not making her jump a little, “I think it’s two rats, neither of them named Yoda.”

Ahsoka’s attention turned to the other girl. “Uh, do you know something about this…?”

“Riyo,” Obi-Wan supplied.

“Riyo?” She finished, giving Obi-Wan a nod of thanks. Damn, now that they were over their whole catfight for Anakin’s precious time, he was quickly becoming one of her favorite people. He was good for times like this. And all times. She made a mental note to get him to say funny British phrases for her, then put a pin in it for _after_ they’d figured out the whole state championship/debate/callbacks debacle.

“It’s Asajj and Savage,” Riyo said quickly. “They’ve convinced Master Yoda he’s protecting the show, when in reality, they’re just protecting themselves.”

Ahsoka bristled. “Oh,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “And they’re gonna mess with _my_ favorite theater nerds to do it? They’re gonna fucking _get it_ —”

“Ahsoka,” Anakin said, kicking her in the shin softly, but hard enough to get her to stop, “we can’t just attack them. We have to come up with something better.”

“I’m pretty sure getting that part would about do it,” Padme said, determination evident on her face, hands in fists, reminding Ahsoka of why it took Anakin 4 years to ask her out. She was _scary_ when she got like this. “We just have to figure out how we’re gonna get there.”

“Alright,” Anakin said, as everyone nodded. “So we’re all in this together, then?”

“That was so cheesy,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head.

“Fuck yeah,” Ahsoka said, ignoring the heart eyes the two dumbasses were making at each other in favor of making brief, grossed out eye contact with Padme. “We’re all in this together.”

\--

The plan was simple: postpone the game and the debate. They’d originally planned to just end the debate as quickly as possible, but Padme had been unsure on the time constraints and Obi-Wan had been insistent on it being moved. Not that Anakin could blame him. At least his mom would’ve been able to make it to the game at its original time. Obi-Wan’s conundrum was a little more complicated, and Anakin suspected the other boy was having a more difficult time with the whole _my dad can’t come to the first debate I’m doing in his area_ thing than he was letting on.

So, the simple plan. Not-so-simple, actually, because it involved Ahsoka, with all her coding expertise, hacking into the basketball court’s lighting system before the game and setting it to go haywire (without leaving a trace, of course, so they couldn’t be accused of doing it to rig the game. Though, to be fair, that charge was more likely to be blamed on the students of West High, who were—probably rightfully—concerned about home court advantage)

Getting the debate tournament’s first round shut down was a more difficult matter. They all counted themselves lucky that everything was taking place at East High (more fucking home court advantage, not that anyone who went to East was complaining), so it would be easy to slip away and fucking sprint to the auditorium, praying to anything they cared to it would be in time.

Regardless, it took all of free period to come up with a good enough plan for the debate tournament, something less telling than flashing lights, but just as effective.

It was a good plan, when finished. That didn’t really help the tension in everyone’s shoulders come Friday morning. Not that they didn’t try and play it off, of course, not that they didn’t try to support each other. Anakin gave Obi-Wan and Padme cookies. Obi-Wan played a game of paper football with Ahsoka—when had _they_ become friends? Not that he was complaining, of course—and Padme even expressed to Master Yoda, looking him directly in the eye, that she hoped his callbacks went well.

Okay, the last one might’ve been a bit more passive-aggressive than supportive. But Master Yoda’s glower was absolutely worth it, as well as the ensuing entertainment of Ahsoka trying to stall Master Yoda until the bell rang so he couldn’t give her detention after she laughed. She succeeded, of course. No one wanted death by Coach Jinn, especially not on such an important day.

So, yeah, it was fine. The day passed in bouncing knees and stolen glasses at clocks, staring at papers with no ability to focus on what they were saying, but it was fine.

Really, what were the odds their plan would go wrong?

\--

Obi-Wan was sitting in his last period, trying not to stare at the clock, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. Deep breaths.

It wasn’t as easy as it looked, though, when a couple of girls behind him wouldn’t shut the fuck up about the basketball game and how much they were looking forwards to seeing all the players in their tank tops and baggy shorts, sweaty from running, toned arms glistening. Not that that bothered Obi-Wan in any way, especially not in a way that could’ve resembled jealousy. After all, they’d only mentioned Anakin by name five times in the past minute.

He gripped his pencil a little tighter, pretending to focus on the assignment in front of him, and willed time to pass faster. Tried to let his mind wander.

That, of course, took him back to the night before, a memory he wasn’t sure was good or bad. It was… something, to say the least.

It had all started when his dad more or less barged into his room, right in the middle of his stress session about the callbacks and the debate and the callbacks at the same time as the debate and the three assignments he had due the next day. Rude, really.

Even ruder was that he’d been determined to _talk about things_ and _sort out whatever was going wrong_ , which was nice and all, but Obi-Wan was _busy_.

As it turned out, he wasn’t busy enough to avoid it, not that he’d been trying to or anything. He’d just been holing up in his room to study every night and not think about the fact that his dad had deeply offended him and he’d done it right back. It wasn’t like it was grating on him or anything, and besides, if he wanted to talk about it, he definitely had the brain capacity to do it.

Not that he was lying about everything or anything. Though, if he was, it certainly didn’t help that his dad started by telling Obi-Wan he knew Anakin had been there the night before, which was, annoyingly enough, only awkward for him, because it seemed the man’s ability to feel awkwardness of any sort had long since died, been buried, and decomposed, with little to no chance for revival.

When all was said and done, it was a difficult conversation. Obi-Wan had been on the verge of tears _before_ his dad came to him specifically to talk about feelings, so it had ended in an embarrassing breakdown that he preferred not to think about.

Still. His dad _had_ said the s-word. The _I’m sorry I thought it was my place to say that_ word. It had been nice to hear. Awful to say back, what with guilt clawing at his insides, but that had happened as well. So, really, Obi-Wan supposed it _had_ been productive, even if he had been up far too late finishing everything.

As abruptly as the knock on his bedroom door that had started the conversation, Obi-Wan was startled out of his thoughts by the whispers of the annoying girls behind him, escalating into normal speaking voices before hushing down again.

“Gross, no, what’s _wrong_ with you?”

“I’m just saying—”

“Absolutely not. No.”

“Listen, why _else_ would Yoda spend so much time in Coach Jinn’s office? I have a point.”

Obi-Wan looked at the clock and wished desperately for a traumatic brain injury to erase what he’d just heard from his mind. And if it made time go faster, too, all for the better.

He was sick of being nervous. He wanted it over with. So when the final bell rang, he was the first one out the door.

\--

Padme remembered their plan for the debate competition well. It had all started when, surprisingly enough, Ahsoka pointed out that the science classroom the debate was being held in, far away from the noise of the gym, was directly over the auto shop.

 _How the fuck is that supposed to help us, Snips?_ Anakin had asked. _We don’t need to drive to the callbacks, they’re at East, remember?_

 _No,_ she’d said with an eyeroll, barely looking up from her laptop, where she’d been working on the code for the gym, _it has carbon monoxide detectors. You just need to rig them to go off. Boom. No debate, since everywhere else in the school will be inundated with basketball noise. Easy._

They’d all stared at her for a moment before she looked up at them, shrugged, and said _I had a speech class in that room once_.

And that was that. And now she and Obi-Wan were sitting anxiously, waiting for the monitors to go off. His knee was bouncing. Padme put a hand on it and he stiffened, gathered himself. Gave her a tight smile. Let her elbow him when her mom came in.

She was the one to grab his arm and jerk him out of his seat when, after everyone was firmly packed in, almost ready to go, the room’s detector (they’d found it was just the one upon getting there, thank god) went off, yelling, “Oh my god, carbon monoxide!” and somehow getting her friend out of the room ahead of everyone else.

“Go!” She yelled at him, grinning. “Your boyfriend’s probably waiting, after all.”

He gave her a quick glare before running.

\--

The game was going well, but Anakin was still anxious. And the Wildcats were down. So, basically, if this didn’t work, Anakin was going to lose out on literally everything. Great.

Ahsoka was helpful, though, despite all the weird winks she kept giving him. He made a mental note to tell her to quit it next time they got to talk, but then the ball was in his area and his hands were on it and he was _running_ and it was in the basket, and his mind was going back to that conversation with Coach, even though the game was still _going_ , and damn, the man had actually apologized, but wait, shit, the ball—down the court, he was on offense, guard the other team’s player, _I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you, Anakin_ , ball in his hands, dribbling, more _fucking_ running, the basket, _I understand why you were angry, but I think what’s most productive now is to put that behind us and support each other_ , stop, get ready to shoot, _by the way, I hope you didn’t hurt yourself too badly last night, Obi-Wan’s balcony isn’t exactly low to the ground_ , the ball, flying through the air—

The court darkened, lightened, darkened again. Anakin looked at the scoreboard to see it fritzing out. His stomach, inexplicably, twisted, and when he looked at Ahsoka, the victory was in her face. The code was working. The gym would be deemed unsafe. Fire hazard or something. The game was done for the day.

He was supposed to go audition, like, now.

Rex was the one to shove him towards the entrance of the court, forcing him into action. And when he started moving, he _ran_. And ran. And ran. He had the presence of mind to grab sweats and a sweatshirt, at least, so he didn’t have to do it in his uniform, but aside from that, all he could focus on was getting there, feet pounding on the cheap tile flooring, heart beating its way up his throat, _praying_ Obi-Wan would also get there on time.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Obi-Wan was already there when Anakin burst into the auditorium, dashing over to the stage, arguing with Master Yoda.

“See!” Obi-Wan said as Anakin slid to a stop next to him, bent over to catch his breath. “He’s here, we can do it!”

“Hm. Said before, I did, that means something, timeliness does, in theatre,” the old man said, and when Anakin heard snickering, he looked up and saw—

“You two,” he growled at Asajj and Savage, who were standing on Yoda’s other side. “I swear to _god_ —”

A quick elbow from Obi-Wan shut him up, which was probably good, as he was just catching his breath and, believe it or not, the threat didn’t sound very threatening when he was gasping for breaths between words.

“Master Yoda,” the other boy said, “You know we did our best under the _circumstances_ to get here on time.” There was an edge to his tone that Anakin hadn’t heard before, not even while trying to apologize. No, he’d just been tired then. This was a whole other side of the blade. “It seems only fair that you give us a chance.”

Yoda seemed to consider this for a moment. “Understandable, this is,” he said finally. Asajj and Savage looked worried for a moment. Good. They weren’t out of the woods yet, though. Yoda’s mouth was still open. “And allow you this, I should. However, no pianist, you have. Therefore—”

”Pianist here!” Riyo shouted it from where she was running across the stage, towards them. Anakin felt real hope bloom in his chest for the first time since the previous morning. “Master Yoda, I’ll play for them,” she said, and Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s hand. His was clammy. Anakin grabbed it back, just as tight.

“You can’t just do that,” Asajj said, stepping forwards, into Riyo’s space. “Trust me when I say—”

“Oh, I can,” Riyo said. “And I will.”

Asajj looked like she might’ve attacked, but Anakin fixed her with a glare that he _hoped_ would remind her that he could probably take her if need be, to which she balled her fists up and stomped away.

Yoda, of course, just looked amused by all this. “Hm!” he said, sounding almost pleased. “Show business, that is! So it seems, that audition today, you _will_ , young Kenobi and Skywalker.”

The hand squeezing Anakin’s tightened, and Anakin looked over to see Obi-Wan grinning, and it made him smile. Then, before Anakin could process more or maybe say some words of encouragement, mics were being shoved into their hands and the piano was playing and they were _singing_.

The song had been nice in the practice room, Anakin would admit to that. But it didn’t really compare to the live experience. Sure, his hands were sweating so much he thought he might drop the mic. Sure, the lights were really fucking hot, not to mention bright, and the _rest_ of him was sweating a little, making his sweatpants and shirt feel decidedly less comfortable.

He wondered how Obi-Wan was doing, briefly, somewhere in the middle of the first chorus. The other boy—his boyfriend? Were they boyfriends? He really, _really_ needed to ask—looked damn good in his suit, but Anakin could only imagine how hot it must’ve been. He was proven right when, during his part of the second verse, Obi-Wan took off the jacket and rolled up his sleeves, grinning. Anakin almost choked on his tongue, and it was all he could do to keep singing. He could already see himself getting made fun of it for it later, but Obi-Wan had to sing as well, so it was put off.

They did that for however long the song was, Anakin didn’t know anymore, dancing around each other, somehow getting everything out with only a few shakes in their voices. By the end, Anakin had forgotten altogether that they were performing at all, had forgotten everything except the words on his tongue and how to look at Obi-Wan like they were meant to be. Which they were.

It was serendipity, he supposed. Couldn’t exactly argue with fate.

When the last note from the piano was done sounding, a loud clap surprised Anakin from his thoughts.

“Hm, good, that was! Very good,” Master Yoda croaked. “Results, I will post on Monday. Now, activities, the two of you have, yes?”

Anakin let out a sudden nervous laugh, letting Riyo take his mic before he dropped it. Probably for the best. “Oh, uh, yeah, should probably, uh, go. Right, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan just nodded and pushed him until they were out.

\--

Obi-Wan’s heart was still pounding from the whole callback experience when Anakin decided to drag him to the roof and make him feel even more anxious for literally no reason.

“Uh, what are we doing up here?” he asked, trying not to seem nervous, even though he _knew_ his palm was sweaty and Anakin was still holding his hand. Why, he couldn’t fathom, but he wasn’t complaining, not really.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Anakin said, suddenly serious. “And, uh, if you say no, I get it, cause it’s kinda been a weird couple of weeks, but, uh, well, uh, doyouwannabemyboyfriend?”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a second. The other boy looked nervous, but Obi-Wan had no clue how he was supposed to respond. He hadn’t even _understood_ what the other boy had said.

“What… did you say?” His hand was so sweaty, he wanted nothing more than to wrench it away and wipe it on his pants, but Anakin’s hand was still gripping his, tight, and he wasn’t sure what the other boy would think if he let go.

“Uh, you know,” Anakin said, gesturing vaguely with his free hand, “do you wanna, like…”

Obi-Wan’s brow creased, a sharp feeling not unlike lightning winding its way through his gut. “Uh, listen, Anakin,” he said. Anakin was saying what he thought he was saying, right? If he wasn’t this was going to get awkward. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not sure now is the best time to hook up—”

“ _No_ , no, no! Not that!” Anakin’s face was bright red, backpedaling. Oops. “Not that that’s like, super unappealing, obviously, uh, but no, no no no no, I uh, no, uh, do you wanna go out with me?” The end was squeaked out, and Anakin was the one who let go to try and surreptitiously wipe his hand on his sweatshirt before covering his eyes.

Obi-Wan felt himself going bright red at that. Awkward, indeed. Oops. Still, though, he couldn’t argue. He quickly reached out to grab Anakin’s wrists, to try and anchor him and pull his hands off his face, _god_ what a lovely face, before he could combust. “I’d, uh, yeah, I’d like that,” he said. “A lot. Yeah. Yes”

Anakin finally, with a little help from Obi-Wan, peeled his hands from his eyes. “Really?” he asked, still flushed. “That’s good.” Then, just for Obi-Wan, the widest grin he’d seen on Anakin came out, at first slowly then all at once, like the sun from behind clouds, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe that was Anakin’s love language, smiling so brightly that the object of his affections couldn’t help but smile back, fully enchanting him until there was no turning back.

They were still smiling when they kissed, if it could be called that, bumping noses and giggling and exchanging happiness until it seemed to take up the entire roof.

 _Now this_ , Obi-Wan thought, _this makes it all worth it_.

\--

They won the state championship, of course. It was probably just a result of both Anakin’s residual excitement from getting the part and the fact that Coach hadn’t given him a real shovel talk yet (a fact Ahsoka knew because Obi-Wan told her over text that the man was putting it off, followed by a couple eyeroll emojis. Iconic.), as well as a healthy dose of Rex’s baking. She cursed herself for being so bitchy about it the first time she ever tried something he’d made. It was _damn good_.

all of them probably only happened because it had been postponed.

“What?” Padme had asked when he said it, one day in the cafeteria. “I thought you had it under control!”

“Padme,” Obi-Wan said, giving her a look, “I had three days to prepare for a whole ass debate. Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Ahsoka and Anakin had laughed then, while Padme and Sabe struggled to explain themselves. It had been a nice lunch.

Honestly, most lunches were nice, especially compared with the intense drama that had preceded the callbacks. That was an experience Ahsoka was hoping to never repeat literally ever again. Even if Asajj was back to her usual bitchy self literally 2 seconds after congratulating America’s (and Britain’s) Grossest Couple on their win of the parts.

Seriously, they were gross. If Ahsoka made Padme snort gross cafeteria milk up her nose at least once by way of muttering about their endless mooning and how she’d pay real money to get them to stop, that was their business, no matter what anyone else asked.

Even Coach Jinn and Master Yoda seemed to be getting along well after everything blew over, a fact which for some reason made Obi-Wan deeply uncomfortable. When pressed, he didn’t say anything, just looked into his food like he wanted it to reach up and strangle him. There was probably a story there. She’d get it from him later.

So yeah. Weird Coach Jinn and Yoda stories aside, maybe she’d been wrong about the whole callbacks thing being of the devil and shit after all. So sue her. Everything _had_ worked out in the end. No one’s existence had even ended, as she’d feared it might once. Instead, an easy camaraderie had been formed between her and the people she’d once sworn she’d never be friends with. It was nice. It was _so_ nice. For once, she was glad to have been wrong.

Everything felt, for the first time in a long while, easy. And Ahsoka was glad for it. And, even if she’d rather die than admit it, she sort of had Obi-Wan and Anakin to blame.

She supposed there was something to be said for show tunes, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so anyways i'm pretty sure messing with school activities like that is.... illegal...... but these kids are theater nerds so i guess that's not too much of a plot hole
> 
> also, an event not shoehorned into ahsoka’s pov: obes & padme going to the bball game & one of them (guess who) being considerably more excited than the other  
> also not described: anakin forcing ahsoka to the debate tournament, where he took a fat nap and she checked out the girls on the opposing team, after which anakin had the most awkward interaction anyone’s ever seen with qui-gon. legend has it he's still out there somewhere, getting the shit roasted out of him for it
> 
> WE DID IT, JOE. SCREAM. HOW IS THIS DONE?????? while this fic was definitely a labor for me, i’m glad it was a labor of love. i hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing :'') it you want to yell at me about literally anything, i made a sideblog for writing shit, [@gignikinszz](https://gignikinszz.tumblr.com/) and i enjoy any and all form of human interaction over there :))
> 
> thank you thank you thank you!!! if you made it this far!!! ily !!!! <333333 now go drink some water you sexy human <33333333


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